


The Way the World Ends

by cjmarlowe



Category: The Sentinel (TV)
Genre: Getting Together, Homophobia, Homophobic Slurs, Involuntarily Outed, M/M, Mention of attempted suicide, Offscreen Violence, all a little melodramatic honestly, casefic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1998-05-30
Updated: 1998-05-30
Packaged: 2020-09-06 15:16:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 67,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20293588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cjmarlowe/pseuds/cjmarlowe
Summary: Blair always knew his curiosity would get him into trouble one day, but he never imagined what else it would lead to. No one is prepared for the myriad tragedies and joys that come from the discovery of a single letter, and a single lost love.





	The Way the World Ends

**Author's Note:**

> Another real blast from my past, posted now to AO3 in August of 2019. I'm not 100% sure of the original posting date, but I do know from my old website - though I have very little recollection of it - that the first draft was written in parts on IRC between September 15 and December 15 of 1997. I remember being very pleased with this when it was finally done, but I haven't read it in probably 20 years and couldn't even tell you what happens in it beyond the summary. I guess we're all rediscovering it at the same time! 
> 
> I've come a long way since writing this, but then so has the world.

"Excuse me sir, but the library will be closing in a few minutes." 

Blair started at the tap on his shoulder and looked up. "What time is it?" 

"Ten to six," she said promptly. 

"Ten to...oh *shit*!" he blurted out. "Thanks...I'll be out of here in a second." He grabbed up as many books as he could manage off the cluttered library table. Getting caught up in the research for his latest paper to the point where the rest of the world almost ceased to exist, he'd totally forgotten once again that it was his turn to clean the loft. _I swear to God, every time I turn around, it's my turn,_ thought Blair a little bitterly, glancing at his watch and noting that he had about three hours before Jim got home. 

Racing out of the library after checking the books out, he dumped them in the passenger seat of his Volvo and began muttering to himself--"Okay, floors, fridge, vacuum, dust...how long can it possibly take?" Over the past couple of years he'd learned all the shortcuts between Rainier and the loft, and on a good day he could make the trip in under fiteen minutes. Today, it took him exactly twenty-six. "Okay, two and a half hours, no problem," he muttered to himself as he parked the car and hauled his stuff up the stairs, wishing he'd had the energy and legs to take them two at a time. 

He dumped his own things in his room and shut the door--by unspoken agreement Jim never complained about the mess in there--then made a face at the stack of dishes he'd neglected and went straight into the living room. 

Jim's stuff was still lying out on the coffee table, making his job that much more difficult. He couldn't really complain--it wasn't something Jim did often--but it still twigged his frustration. The other night, while Blair had been busy with his article, Jim had been going through a couple boxes that had been stashed in his closet for years. Now, rather than being tucked neatly away, they were making a mess of the living room. 

He started stacking everything into piles--letters in one, documents in another--smiling as he took a covert peek at some of the flowery, still faintly perfumey letters that Carolyn had sent Jim while they were dating. 

"Purple, purple, purple," he said aloud, laughing as he went through, finally putting them all down for fear of going into sugar shock. 

He knew, in the back of his mind, that some of his disdain stemmed from envy-- just the tiniest bit, of course--but he couldn't bring himself to put that feeling into a full, coherent thought. _No, it's just really bad poetry. I mean, what possible reason could I have to be jealous of Carolyn?_ He only wished that the replies had been there so he could see what kind of responses his partner came up with to them. 

Once he'd begun to pack it all away neatly, having finally lost interest in Jim's marriage for the moment, it was the couple of letters that *hadn't* been from Carolyn that kept drawing his attention. Jim never talked about anyone else, but it was obvious Carolyn hadn't been the only important person in his life. There were two envelopes that stuck out, if only for the fact that they were plain white and the handwriting on the outside was *definitely* not that of Jim's ex-wife. They had been tucked into their respective envelopes and looked very, very private. _Aw, hell, what can it hurt. This is all stuff from years ago..._

Sitting down on the couch, he opened the first one.

> Dear Jim, 
> 
> I haven't heard from you in a while and I was wondering if I'd done something wrong. It's almost summer, you know...time for our annual camping trip. That is, if you still want to go with me. I'm still in touch with a couple of people in Cascade...old friends of ours. 
> 
> They tell me you're seeing someone now. A woman at the station that you work with (is that such a good idea, by the way?) It kinda hurts, that you didn't tell me, buddy. You don't think I'm over you or something? It might have been nice to be invited down, maybe meet her. 
> 
> Anyway, I'm not going to ramble on about missed opportunities...I just want to know that you're still alive and remembering that I am too. 
> 
> Let me know about the trip, okay? 
> 
> Yours, David 

Blair had to read the letter twice more before he was able to set it down, and even when he did, his hands were still trembling. Half of him regretted ever catching sight of the letter and the other half was thinking it was the best thing he'd ever done. Either way, it was a shock. _Jim? With a guy? Just not possible._ But 'David' wasn't exactly short for any female names he was familiar with. 

He stood up and looked for something to do, something that might take his mind off of the letter and its implications. He ended up finishing the dishes in record time, and was scrubbing--scrubbing!-- the floor when he let his mind go back to it. 

David. Who was he? Apparently someone Jim knew a long time ago-- from school, maybe...or from the service...or from somewhere else? It was hard for him to imagine Jim ever having had a life before the PD, before he returned from Peru. It just wasn't a part of his picture of Jim. But it had happened--school and friends and college and parents and playing with his brother and writing exams...and joining the military, training for a hundred missions before he ever went to Peru. It had all happened. 

And somewhere in there had been David. And others? Other men in his life? People he had loved, maybe? It remained unimaginable. 

Blair's arms ached from scrubbing at the floor so hard--at least it was sparkling when he was done. Maybe Jim would see that and be impressed. Maybe he wouldn't notice the way Blair would be looking at him differently. 

The dusting was next, everywhere except the table where the letters were stacked. The banister he polished twice. But eventually there was nothing left to do, and still an hour before Jim was due home. The letters kept calling him back. There was another that he hadn't read, hiding in its own envelope, harboring who knows what secrets. Would it be from David too? Or someone else? 

Sitting down again, he opened it carefully. Almost reverently. It was like a key to Jim, and he never, ever wanted to lose it.

> Dear Jim 
> 
> Congratulations on your upcoming marriage. Carolyn sounds like a lovely woman and I can't say I'm surprised you ended up with her. Whenever I imagined you being with a woman--and I did from time to time you know--I imagined you with someone like her. You know, strong, competent, career oriented. Someone like you. 
> 
> You used to tell me when we were lying in bed together that you'd never meet someone like me again. Looks like you've found yourself someone even better. I know you think I'm jealous, but I'm not. We had a great time together--the best 5 years of my life--but it was a long time ago now, and we've both moved on. I'm still never going to forget you. 
> 
> I don't think I'm going to be able to make the wedding. You're right...it would be just plain awkward. But I'll see you next summer. July 6th, Manitou Lake. Don't be late! 
> 
> Always, David 

_Well that makes everything pretty clear,_ thought Blair as he replaced the letter into the envelope. The piles of papers went into the box, carefully separated, and the box went onto the floor next to the couch. Blair leaned back and closed his eyes, running his hands nervously through his hair. 

_So what does that mean? I know Carolyn couldn't have been the first woman that Jim was with. David makes it sound like he was bi. That's... interesting. Shocking. So what do I do now that I know?_ There wasn't an easy answer to that question. There wasn't a single answer at all. Those letters hadn't been his to read--he'd invaded Jim's privacy to do it. He hadn't thought there would be anything much in them, maybe some more sappy letters from an old flame. _Female_ flame. Nothing like this. 

_Why am I letting this get to me so much?_ Blair had never really thought much about his own relationship with Jim, beyond knowing that it was the most important thing in the world to him. More than any woman he dated. More than any woman _Jim_ dated. More than anything. It was hard to imagine Jim being with someone else for so long, sharing all his thoughts and fears and hopes with them, and not him. _But Jim and I, we don't have that sort of relationship..._

In the end, it came down to just two options. Either he would mention it, or he wouldn't, and there was just no way he could out and mention it. It was therefore a surprise even to him when, as Jim came through the door to the loft about an hour later, the first words out of his mouth were "Jim, who's David?" 

"David?" Jim stilled for a moment, then forced himself to relax. "Did he call?" 

"Call?" Blair frowned. "No." 

"Oh," he said, looking puzzled. "Then, uh, what makes you ask?" 

Blair tried to think of a way to phrase it delicately, and not incriminate himself too much, but nothing came to him. When he didn't answer right away, Jim could easily see the signs of nervousness and apprehension. He scanned the loft for any sort of clue, his eyes stopping dead when he caught sight of the box, knowing full well what was in it. "When I asked you to clean," he said, his voice expressionless, "I didn't mean for you to be quite that thorough, Sandburg." 

"I'm sorry man," he said hastily, "but it was just _there_. I didn't think it would be anything. At least, nothing like..." Jim just nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Blair noted the clenched jaw and the frozen facial expression and knew exactly how angry his partner was. "I was just piling it up, and... I'm just sorry. I don't know what else to say." 

Jim nodded again. Just kept nodding, really, slowly and hypnotically. "That was private." 

"Um, yeah." 

He finally stopped nodding and sighed heavily, running a hand over his face. "Sit down, Sandburg, and don't touch anything else." Knowing how he'd feel if Jim had done the same thing to him, Blair didn't protest. He watched as the sentinel regained control of himself, amazed that he hadn't blown up, hadn't reamed him out. Yet. "David is...David is an old friend." Jim stopped and stared right into Blair's eyes. "Why'd you do it? Huh, Blair? Why'd you do it?" His voice wasn't full of anger, as Blair had expected. It was soft and pained. 

Blair didn't know what to say--which was definitely not a common occurrence in his life. "I don't know. I guess... You're always so quiet about your life." 

"It's my right to be quiet about it." 

"Yeah...I know. I'm sorry. I'd be really pissed if you did that to me." 

"Sorry's not good enough this time, Sandburg. I want to know why. Why you did it." 

Blair fiddled with his hands, not daring to look at Jim. "All that other stuff, it was just...stuff. And those envelopes, it was like they were calling my name..." 

"Bullshit." 

He almost jumped at the way Jim spit that word out. "I'm a nosy shit, okay? I wanted to know more about you so I looked. That's it! No secret agenda. No plot against you. Nothing more than simple human curiosity. Okay?" 

Jim shook his head. "It's not okay, Blair." Blair was still surprised at how calm Jim's voice sounded. How controlled. How even. "I trusted you." 

Blair ran a hand nervously through his hair. "I know. I am sorry, Jim. I was sorry as soon as I looked." 

"Were you?" 

"Yes, I was. I wished I'd just asked. I wished you'd just told me." 

Jim just turned his back and walked away, up the stairs and into his room. Blair lifted his head and watched him go, his heart sinking. Jim was never going to trust him again, and that hurt more than anything else ever could have. He didn't even know what to do to make it right. 

A few minutes later, much to Blair's surprise, Jim returned carrying another box. He walked up next to his friend and set it down on the coffee table in front of him. "If you want to know, then at least you're going to find out with me here, all right? You're going to hear the whole story, from me." He sat down on the couch next to Blair and watched for a reaction. "Go ahead and open it, if you want to." 

Blair kept watching Jim, looking for signs that this was a test, but all Jim's expression was conveying right now was weariness, and maybe a little anticipation. Carefully, he opened the top of the box. It was full, just full, of notes, letters and pictures. 

"Jim," said Blair slowly. "Are we going to talk about this?" 

"About what part? About you snooping through my stuff? Or about me being bi?" 

All along Blair had been expecting Jim to come up with some kind of story that would explain everything away, but he hadn't. He'd just confirmed it all in one fell swoop. Blair opened his mouth again, but Jim held up a hand before he could say anything. "I'm the one who left it out; I should have known you would look. Maybe I did know. I'm not pissed, Blair. Just a little... unready." 

"You sure sounded pissed, man," he muttered. 

"Yeah, maybe I was." Jim sighed. "But sometimes it's just not worth being mad at you, Chief." 

Blair smiled gratefully and reached in to pull out a picture from on top of the pile. "I was expecting to see something else from Carolyn, you know," he said, trying to sound offhand while wheedling more information out of Jim. It was too hard for him to just ask outright. Too awkward. 

"I know," said Jim, not offering an opinion on that but focusing on the photograph in Blair's hand. "That's a picture of David and me and Hannah at our college graduation. I'm sure you can guess which is which." 

"Um, yeah," said Blair, still a little flustered at Jim's apparent turnabout. It wasn't out of character for Jim to let him off the hook like that, but he'd somehow expected this to be a bigger deal to him. Then again, maybe it was, and this was just his way of dealing with it. "When...when did you meet?" he asked. 

"Sophomore year." Jim looked at Blair expectantly. The other man nodded, but didn't quite look satisfied. "That's not what you're asking, is it? What you want to know is when I knew I was bi." 

Blair didn't want to admit outright that Jim was dead on, even if he was. "Jim...you've got to understand, this is a hell of a surprise. I'm not quite sure what I want to ask yet." 

"That's what you get for putting your nose where it doesn't belong, Sandburg," he said calmly. 

"Wait," said Blair, flustered. "Just wait. I'm really not getting this, Jim. You're the guy who took almost two years to even tell me he had a brother..." 

"Don't push your luck unless you want me to leave these boxes in my closet for another couple of years," he said, raising an eyebrow in Blair's direction. "Maybe I'm just in the mood to clear the air here." Blair still waited for some kind of explanation that would confirm his previous image of Jim, but none came. "I was thinking about telling you anyway," he added, "since you don't seem to be moving out of my life any time soon." 

Blair grinned sheepishly, inwardly somewhat delighted at how Jim had accepted him into his life and didn't seem to want him to go. The grin was wiped off his face a moment later. 

"There's this guy at the gym I've been thinking about asking out..." Jim went on. 

Blair swallowed. Hard. "There is?" 

Jim nodded. "It would have been pretty hard to keep _that_ from you. I mean, I've dated guys in the last couple of years that you've been here, but this time I want it to be different. Even if there's no way I can let any of the guys at the station catch on, I was hoping you'd be cool." 

Blair nodded, feeling for all the world like Jim had just popped his balloon, stomped on his puppy and pulled the rug out from under him, all in one fell swoop. Everything he was thinking, everything he had come to value about their relationship--their somewhat exclusive relationship--gone in an instant. 

"Blair, you okay?" 

Blair nodded. "Just sort of...picturing it." 

"Picturing it?" he said, with a distinct glint in his eye. 

Blair blushed. "That is _not_ what I meant, man!" 

Blair averted his eyes and forged ahead. "Um...you remember what I was asking about before, Jim? About...how you knew? Well..." 

Jim nodded, his eyes glazing over a little as he remembered. "My first boyfriend was when I was sixteen. We had to sneak around everywhere we went--I was terrified that Stephen would find out, let alone my father. Then, when I joined up with the army, well, it wasn't 'don't ask, don't tell' back then. It was just DON'T." 

"But you did." 

Jim chuckled and rubbed his forehead self-consciously. "Yeah, well that was when I was still involved with David." 

"No offense, Jim, but...I just can't picture you with a guy. It's just...it's too bizarre." 

"Bizarre, Chief?" 

"Wait, I didn't mean it quite like that. It just...you're this big, buff, macho guy with a big truck and, you know, a big attitude..." Blair stopped and thought about that for a second. "Nevermind." 

Jim tried not to laugh. And failed. 

"Okay, I'm sorry," said Blair, trying not to laugh himself, seeing he hadn't just screwed up again. "I still can't imagine it." 

"Well, I'm sure there's a picture in here somewhere..." He started rummaging through the box until Blair grabbed his wrists and tried to pull them away. 

"I do not want to see pictures, Jim!" He didn't have the strength to pull Jim's hands away, so he tried to use his whole body. Jim suddenly went limp and they flew backwards onto the couch, Jim landing haphazardly on top of him. Their faces were a mere inch apart, and Blair found he had to gasp for breath. No one moved. Then Jim pulled away, his lips passing so close to Blair's that he imagined they'd touched. 

"Relax, Chief, I'm not going to show you a picture of that, whatever you're thinking ‘that’ is." He returned to the box and pulled out another picture. "But I will show you this, if you're okay with it." Before handing over the picture he looked at his partner. "I never stopped to ask...you are okay with this...aren't you?" 

"What? Oh, yeah, Jim. I'm cool with it. Really." He smiled to try and prove his sincerity, tried to ignore his heart pounding in his throat while knowing Jim could easily hear it and wonder about it. 

Jim handed over the picture. It was perfect, taken on a beach at sunset with just enough light so that the figures in it were recognizable, a little more than silhouettes. It was Jim and David, and they were kissing. It was the most beautiful thing that Blair had ever seen. 

"Wow," Blair managed to finally say after staring at the picture for a few, long moments. 

Jim took it back and placed it carefully next to the box. 

"That was taken on our second anniversary, right here in the bay." He smiled a little wistfully. 

"Jim?" 

Blair's voice pulled him back into the here and now. "Sorry, just remembering. We really had some great times." 

"So, um, what happened? I mean, you're not together now..." 

Jim shook himself a little, shedding that wistful look. "Well, we also had some not-so-great times." He shrugged. "Some things just aren't meant to be, I guess. It got pretty hard, once I joined the army. It was hard on him, too, and the stress got to both of us. I had to choose, and so did he. He just chose first." 

Blair looked thoughtful. "It sounded from the letters like you were the one to break it off." 

Jim shook his head. "No, I was willing to give it a shot, but once he ended it he started going around screwing everyone in sight. At least, that's how it seemed to me. After a few months he called me up, asked if we could give it another shot. By that time I had gone on with my life and didn't want to go through that again. Maybe it would have worked...I don't know. But it got pretty messy after that. I got myself promoted and left the country. We didn't talk again for a couple of years." 

"I'm sorry," said Blair. 

"Sorry for what?" 

"Sorry that it didn't work out, I guess. I don't know. You sound... 

"Sound what?" 

"You sound like you were in love with him." 

Jim was quiet for a moment. "I was." Again, he had to shake off the feeling of nostalgia that threatened to overwhelm him. He glanced at his partner, who was now looking at him with wide, sad eyes. "You're still really thrown by this, aren't you?" 

Blair shrugged, then threw on a grin. "It's the new-and-improved Jim. Gonna take a little getting used to, man." He picked up the photograph of the beach kiss and stared at it a little while longer. "Okay, yeah," he said finally. "I can picture it." He smiled. "So when did the summer camping trip thing come to be?" 

Jim looked surprised. "Oh, that." He looked mildly embarrassed, and Blair wondered what kind of shock he was in for now. "When I got back from Peru, he was one of the first people who actually called me, to see how I was doing and all. I was still shaken up and, well, really lonely. We had a little two-week... "thing". And then we vowed to get together every summer after that, just to keep in touch." 

"You slept with him again?" asked Blair incredulously. 

"Yeah." He tried to find the words to justify it. "I was starved for contact with my old life, and he had been a big part of it. It was a pretty stupid thing to do, but then I did a lot of stupid things over those next couple of years." 

"I can imagine." 

There was a profound silence for a moment, and when Jim spoke again it wasn't about David anymore. "So if I do bring someone home, like the guy from the gym, you're okay with that?" 

Blair nodded, but then thought about it for a moment and, taking a deep breath, shook his head. 

"No, Jim, I don't think I would be okay with that." 

Jim looked startled. "You wouldn't? But I thought..." 

"That's not what I mean," started Blair. "I would be upset because..." 

"Because?" 

"I mean, it would bother me because..." 

"Because?" 

Blair took another deep breath. 

"It would bother me because it wasn't me," he said finally. 

Jim's expression was one of sheer shock. He opened his mouth to say something, but found he couldn't. After a few long moments of absolute stillness, he leaned forward and, closing his eyes, gave Blair the softest, tenderest kiss imaginable. 

"My god, I can't believe I finally heard you say that," he whispered. 

When Jim moved away again, Blair's eyes were wide. For the second time in a day, he was speechless. 

"I'm sorry," apologized Jim, seeing that look. 

"No, don't apologize," said Blair quickly. "It was...perfect." 

They looked at one another, neither needing to say a word. Finally, Jim reached into the box again. 

"I don't know where to go from here," he admitted. "All those questions...I assumed that you never..." 

"I haven't," said Blair. "Not really. Not with a guy," he added. "Can I, um, ask you some more stuff?" 

"Yeah, sure," said Jim. "You okay?" 

Blair nodded. "It's just...it's been a hell of an evening, and it's still early." 

"Want me to fix something to eat?" he asked, beginning to get up from his seat. 

Blair suddenly realized that he was, in fact, *starving*. "You aren't going anywhere," he said, though. "I've finally got the real Jim Ellison and I am *not* letting him go without a fight. Call for a pizza, would you? My treat." 

"Blair, I make twice what you do." 

"Not for much longer you don't," he said, a little smugly. "Can you make sure that there are peppers on it?" 

Jim made a face that Blair recognized immediately, but his words were unexpected. "Is this going to be our first disagreement as a couple?" 

It was such a casual question that it took a moment for the implications to sink in. _Couple? Well...that's what we are now..._

"Yes," he said, trying to sound flip. "Go ahead and order two." 

"Well, at least we got it over with," Jim made the call as Blair leafed through some of the stuff in the box, finally coming across a coveted letter actually written by Jim. As Jim tried to decide what he *did* want on his pizza, he read it. 

"You wrote this?" 

Jim replaced the receiver and shrugged a little self-consciously, looking at the letter in Blair's hands. 

"Yeah, I guess," he admitted. "I didn't know that was in there." 

"This is really good. I didn't know you wrote." The letter was not only a fluid work of prose, but also contained a short poem that he had written. It was so incompatible with what Blair knew of Jim that he'd had to read it twice, just to believe that it was really there. 

"I used to, back in school. Not much since then." If Blair wasn't mistaken, there was a note of pain in Jim's voice. 

"You should. I like it," he said, placing the sheet of paper almost reverently on the table and smoothing it out with his palms. 

Jim shrugged again. "I haven't really wanted to in a long while. Carolyn appreciated a good Jags game a lot more than good art." He laughed, maybe a little too harshly. "She really did try, though." 

"So that's where it comes from, huh," said Blair, not really wanting to linger on the subject of Jim's ex-wife. 

"What comes from?" 

"Your love of sports." 

"Ah," said Jim, finally clear on what Blair was getting at. "My love of sports comes from the fact that I'm good at them. Nothing to do with her. You know that." 

When Blair looked at Jim, he almost saw a double image--the Jim of yesterday, and the Jim of today. It was a slow process, but those two images were coming together to form, not the whole picture, but something more complete than he had ever seen before. 

He smiled. "Okay...this is still a little weird. More than a little. Do you mind...that I want to know this stuff?" 

"Mind? No, I guess not. I mean, not now...not now that we're, you know..." 

"I thought maybe you'd have an easier time saying it than I do." 

"Now that we're together," finished Jim. 

"So you don't mind? I'm not annoying you?" 

"Not yet," said Jim, a note of warning in his otherwise tolerant voice. 

"All right, all right," said Blair. "Have you been, you know, with a lot of guys?" 

Jim considered the question quite seriously, and Blair was relieved that he didn't simply dismiss it as too personal, or none of his business, or just a stupid thing to ask. 

"Depends on what you mean 'been with'." 

"Just dated. Not slept with, Jim! If I meant 'slept with' I would have *said* 'slept with'!" Blair fought the blush that threatened to creep up on his cheeks. 

"More than a few," answered Jim finally, "less than a lot." 

"Gee, that tells me a lot." 

Jim reached out to take Blair's hand and squeezed it a little. He didn't let go. "I remember them all by name, so it can't be *that* many. What is it you want to know?" 

"I guess...oh hell, I don't know. This is gonna sound kinda stupid." 

"Okay, hold it right there, Chief. Let's make a pact, okay? I won't call any of your questions stupid if you don't call any of my answers stupid. All right?" 

"Yeah, sure, Jim." 

"All right then. Go ahead." 

"I was just sorta wondering...who have you been with more...men, or women?" 

Jim thought about it while Blair stared at their clasped hands, feeling his own pulse picking up. How long ago had it been that he had sat in here, opening that first fateful letter? Three hours, if that? Not nearly enough time to assimilate all this, to deal with it. 

"Men," said Jim finally, to Blair's surprise, "but it's close." He began ticking people off on his fingers. "Let's see--and this is counting high school too, Chief--Jill...Angie...Jonathan. Then Nita. Then David--he was the longest. Ummm...Daniel, Kristin, Richard, Doug." Jim thought some more. "that actually brings us to Carolyn. Then...Michael. And then you." He smiled at Blair. "That's it. Not counting one-night stands, of course. Not that there were *that* many of those, either." 

"Man, that's even shorter than *my* list." 

"Yeah, but you usually strike out after one date, Chief." Before Blair could fully register what he'd said, Jim picked up the letter and started reading it himself. 

"Hey, man, that was low." 

Jim grinned. "Not my fault you were looking at the wrong gender." Blair stared at him for a long moment before Jim realized how he'd unnerved his roommate with that comment. "I'm sorry," he said, without offering an explanation for an apology. 

As the shock wore off, Blair's eyes became a little brighter, his cheeks a little redder...his smile a little wider. Jim couldn't help looking at him, just as Blair couldn't help but notice. 

"What is it?" 

Jim reached out to touch Blair's hair. "It's nothing." 

"Tell me?" 

Jim paused another moment, his eyes locked with Blair's. "I just realized," he said clearly, his voice full of wonder, "that somehow I've fallen in love with you." He couldn't pull his eyes away, searching for some sign of reciprocation. 

Blair swallowed. "Love, Jim? That's not nothing." 

"You're right, it isn't," he said. "Love. Imagine that." 

What frightened Blair was that he could. His whole relationship with Jim, when he stepped a little to the side and looked at it another way--that was what it was all about. 

"So, um, what do we do about that?" 

"I guess we wait a while and see if I can make you fall in love with me too." 

"Pretty easy job, man," said Blair without really stopping to think about what he was saying, his eyes still locked with Jim's. 

Jim could see strong emotions warring in those eyes. Excited, nervous, confused, passionate... everything at once. "Don't worry," said Jim. "As far as I'm concerned we have all the time in the world." 

"Good," said Blair, "cause..." 

"Because what? Because you aren't ready? You don't need to tell *me* that, Chief. This kinda got sprung on you unexpectedly. Take it easy, it'll all work out." Blair nodded as the pizza delivery boy knocked at the door. Jim reluctantly got up and answered it, tipping him generously and bringing the steaming pizzas inside. Blair was resting his elbows on his knees and had his head in his hands. "Blair, you all right?" 

"What? Yeah, I just...I need to get up. Move around." He stood up and walked over to the doors to the balcony, looking over the city. The sky was just beginning to darken, and everything held a reddish hue. 

Jim set the pizza down on the counter and walked over to where Blair was standing. "You really are just figuring this all out, aren't you. I just... it's taking me a while to remember how hard it is, at first. Blair, do you want me to back off?" 

"No. Yes. Maybe just slow down. I need to think. I feel like, like it would be so easy right now, to let you have everything you wanted. All you'd have to do was say the word. And I know that if I did that..." 

"...you might regret it. At least at first." 

"I wouldn't regret being with you, Jim. Just like I don't regret any of the last two years we've been together. I just might regret us, you know, doing anything so soon. I don't want to ruin this." 

"You couldn't ruin this," said Jim. "But I don't want to make you uncomfortable. I never thought I'd hear you say that you wanted to be with me; it was hard enough working up the nerve to tell you in the first place. I've never really been out to a lot of people. Not since college at any rate, and that feels like a very long time ago right now. I really was ready to look for someone else, and give up that little dream I carried with me. But you, you're worth waiting for, Chief." 

Blair felt Jim's hands come up on his shoulders and they both stared out across the cityscape. 

"Imagine," said Blair. "Of all the people in this city, this country, this world, you and I managed to find one another. First as sentinel, and as guide, and now as...this. Really makes you think." 

"Try not to think too much just yet," whispered Jim. "It'll make you crazy. We *are* here and we *are* together and that's that." 

"Yeah," said Blair. After another moment, he turned. "Where'd you put that pizza, man. I'm *starving*" 

Jim chuckled, pointing towards the kitchen counter. 

"In there. Don't worry, it's still warm." 

Blair grinned. "Looks like I'm going to have to teach you the virtues of cold pizza. But not until breakfast." Pulling a piece of pizza out of the box, Blair took it into the living room and sat down again, almost challenging Jim to call him on it. 

Jim looked like he wanted to say something but bit his tongue and gave up on his neatness obsession, just for one night. He did, however, get himself a plate to put his pizza on before joining Blair, handing over a second plate to his partner with a stern look. 

"Can I ask *you* a few questions now?" said Jim after a moment 

"Like what?" asked Blair apprehensively. 

"How do *you* feel about being with a guy?" 

"I'm not sure I know yet. I mean, with my friends at Rainier, kissing's just a friendship thing, guys *or* girls, you know? It never meant anything more than that, so I never really thought about it." 

"I remember what college is like," said Jim. "It wasn't *that* long ago." Blair began ticking off the years until Jim snatched up his hands. "Don't even think about it, short stuff." Casually, he brought one of Blair's hands up to his lips and kissed the fingertips. "Let's save the age jokes for our twentieth anniversary, okay? Or maybe our thirtieth." 

"Let's see....that'll make me...fifty-eight. Okay, we can do that." 

He had already become used to Jim's casual touches, that was just the way his partner was; it was the more intimate touches he would have to get used to. It had been easy for him to fall for Jim with his heart--he realized he'd done that a long time ago--but his body was going to be another story entirely. Then again, looking at him, he imagined it mightn't be so hard at all. 

Jim wasn't looking at him that moment; his head had turned and he was staring out those same windows again. Blair didn't know when his feelings for Jim had started, really. Maybe it was even as far back as the day they'd met. All he knew was that he hadn't wanted them to be apart. But when had *those* feelings started--the ones that made his breath catch and his heart race? He didn't know; he'd only recognized them when he had finally acknowledged them, and that hadn't been long ago at all. 

He found himself longing just to touch him, the way they'd always touched, just to assure himself that they were indeed here and that this was indeed happening. His fingers came up to lightly brush across Jim's cheek, drawing his attention back to Blair and back to their conversation. 

"How did you know...with David...that you were falling in love?" The question just came out, without forethought, without really realizing why he wanted to know. 

"Funny question, coming from the guy who used to fall in love every other day." 

Blair snorted. "Love? Even *I* know that wasn't love." 

"Sorry..." said Jim. "Just remembering, I guess. How did I know I was in love with him? Same way anyone knows they're in love, I guess." 

"I'm sorry I just keep coming back to this...but, well, he was a guy. The first guy you were in love with. Maybe even the first *person* you were in love with." 

"And?" 

"What do you mean 'and'?" 

"Are you expecting it to be somehow different?" 

Blair shook his head. "No. I don't know what I think. You--Jim Ellison--had a long-term relationship with another guy. A *man*. It's still, well, a shock." 

"I suppose asking 'Why?' would be pretty stupid," said Jim with a sigh. "It's something that's always been this part of me. Not something I shared often, but always there. It's not a shock to *me*; I wish it wasn't a shock to everyone else, too." 

"I'm sorry, I'm making this hard for you." Blair leaned back into the couch and closed his eyes. "You know, I woke up this morning thinking it would be just another day." 

"It is," said Jim. "And tomorrow will be just another day, too. Except that we'll be together." 

Blair finished his pizza and licked his fingers clean. 

"Can I keep going through this?" he asked, gesturing at the box. 

Jim looked at it. "Yeah, sure. It's okay...I just wanted to be here, so that you would know the real story behind stuff, and not get half-stories, like from reading David's letters." 

"I really am sorry about that..." 

"Shush," said Jim. "You shouldn't have done that...but if you hadn't... Well, it doesn't bear thinking about." 

Blair piled a couple of letters next to the box and pulled out another picture. "Who's this?" he asked 

Jim leaned closer to look at it, even though they both knew he didn't need to. "Oh my god. That's me and Jonathan. Just look at that hair!" 

Blair snickered. "I was looking at the clothes. That's what was in fashion in..." 

"1979," said Jim. "It was 1979. I didn't know I had this in there either. Maybe it *is* time to go through this box." 

"Did Carolyn ever know? I mean, about your past?" 

Jim paused and then nodded. "I did tell her a little. She wasn't very happy about it so I stopped." He shrugged, trying to look nonchalant even though it was patently clear that Carolyn's reaction had hurt him. "She did eventually meet David, but they didn't get on well at all. David didn't think much of her, thought I could do a lot better. Carolyn never said as much but I imagine she felt the same. You know, when you first came to the station, she thought that you and I...and then when you moved in here... Well, there was no convincing her otherwise after that." 

"You mean she thought that me...and you...? All along? Oh, *man*. Did anyone else ever think that? *Does* anyone else think that?" 

Jim shifted uncomfortably. "I always kept that picture, even though the rest got boxed up and put into storage." 

"Jim? *Do* they?" 

Jim couldn't answer right away. "Blair, are you sure you want this? Us? *Really* sure?" 

"Yes," he said, quietly but firmly. "Please, tell me." 

"All right," he said. "There are always people speculating about us. I thought Simon was going to ask me point blank once--man, I thought someone had outed me to him or something!" He tapped his fingers against the table, unsure of how to phrase what he wanted to say next. "If he ever does ask me...I'd like to tell him yes." 

"You would?" 

"*If* he asks me, and I don't know that he will. Brown and Taggert like to gossip about us but I think it's mostly a joke with them. A couple people who don't know us, in other departments, have sort of assumed that we're together. I, uh, kinda thought you knew some of that was going on. Even though we've never actually talked about it." 

"Jim...isn't being out at the station, like, a *bad* idea?" 

"Simon isn't inclined to gossip." 

"Yeah, I know, but..." 

"I'm not going to do anything to cause trouble. You're looking for problems where there are none--we've just got to take this as it comes. Can you do that?" 

"Like we have any other choice," sighed Blair. It would have been impossible not to notice Blair's flagging energy or the doubts and fears that continued to creep into his expression. "I'm gonna go to my room, Jim. Maybe read a book or something. Clear my head. This is all coming at me pretty hard." 

Jim leaned over and kissed him softly. "Anything I can do?" 

"Just be here when I come back, okay?" 

"I will," promised Jim. He watched as Blair stopped by the dining room table and glanced up the stairs briefly before continuing to his room. "It's okay if you want to," he said quietly, nodding his head towards his loft. 

Blair thought about it and shook his head. 

"Thanks, Jim, but not just yet." Sighing almost imperceptibly, he went into his bedroom and closed the door. 

Almost as soon as he was out of sight, Jim let out the breath he felt like he'd been holding forever. Whatever his plans for the evening had been, they certainly hadn't included *this*. Blair's confrontation hadn't just taken him by surprise, it had turned him upside down and inside out, making him face things that, in all likelihood, neither of them was ready for. He could only hope he'd dealt with it reasonably well. Not just the coming out part, but the confession of Blair's feelings and his reciprocation of them. Dealing with things gently wasn't exactly his forte. 

It hadn't come out at all smoothly--his time with David, which they had barely *begun* to cover, his other experience, his feelings. _Feelings? Where did *those* pop up from? I thought I had them safely buried under male bonding rituals._ Blair had seemed both fascinated and confused, and once they had kissed, more than a little uneasy too. _Okay, I know what kind of image I project, but Blair sees past that bullshit in everyone else. Why couldn't he have seen past it in me this time?_

He leaned forward on the couch, drawn to the box that still sat there invitingly. _This was what started it all. What in hell possessed me to leave all that stuff lying around? Did I *want* him to find out, after all these months of so carefully concealing a huge portion of my life?_ He had never been ashamed of it, just especially attuned to the hardships of being an out bisexual male in *his* world. 

He glanced towards Blair's door and listened for the sounds of his heart rate and breathing that would tell him whether Blair was awake or falling asleep. He was awake, moving around restlessly on his bed as if trying to get comfortable and not finding any way to do it. Jim could even hear those sounds with regular hearing. 

He wasn't sure how to feel about what was happening between him and Blair. He wanted it--God, did he want it!--but he didn't know if Blair was really ready for a relationship with another man. It wasn't as if Blair was some naive kid, but there was more than a little questioning of your own identity when you're coming out, especially later in life, and it seemed that Blair wasn't going to be spared any of it. 

It had been so long ago now for him, and he tried to remember what he had felt and what he had done, what he had wanted to talk about and know the most. But coming out to yourself in the late seventies was a *lot* different than now, and coming out when you were sixteen was different than when you were twenty-eight. It was hard for him to find the right things to say. Blair was the one who had told Jim that he wanted to be with him; Jim had to take that as a good sign. The only thing to do now was to take it nice and slow and do whatever he could to make things easier. That kind of patience wasn't something that Jim had ever been good at. 

He had to somehow shove that military Jim aside and try to be someone he had been a long time ago. For Blair, he was willing to try. He listened again and found that Blair's breathing had begun to even out and slow; he was getting some rest. 

Beginning to pick through the box, he set aside some of the pictures, smiling a little at many of them, and pulled out a leather-bound book he knew was in there. He debated with himself whether to show it to Blair or not--he'd already claimed that showing your journal to a lover was a bad idea--but this one wasn't full of sexual conquests, it was full of questions and concerns and secret loves and everything else that a teenage boy just trying to figure himself out wants to write down but rarely does. He had never shown this to anyone else before in his life, hadn't even opened the cover himself in more years than he cared to count. 

He set the book on the couch next to him and vowed to think about it a little more before he did anything. Doing the wrong thing right now might have *serious* repercussions. There were things in this box that *he* wanted to look at again, and not just because of everything that had happened in the last couple of hours. There were a lot of memories there--good and bad--and he was ready to deal with more of them every day. 

His adult life so far--first the military, then the police force-- hadn't seemed to leave him much room to be himself, but he was beginning to see that maybe the two things didn't have to be mutually exclusive. He wasn't going to bring his personal life into the station--doing that with Carolyn had been such a mistake--but maybe he could *have* a personal life again that didn't consist of dark rooms and back alleys. 

Sean--the guy he met at the gym--was supposed to be the first step to doing that, but now, with Blair, it was going to be so much better. Scarier and more meaningful, but better. The thought of telling Simon still unnerved him, despite what he had told Blair, but if it came down to it, he would tell him rather than lie. He hated lying, especially to his friends, but he had come to terms with who he was a long time ago and damned if he was going to let anyone continue to take that away from him. 

A piece of paper sticking out halfway down the pile caught his attention. He pulled it out and began to glance over it. It had been from David, like most of the things in the box were, and Jim laughed when he remembered where it had come from. All the way through sophomore year, when they had just started going out, Jim and David had passed little notes to one another in a sociology class, with Hannah always seated between them. Jim had kept every one. Every so often he thought about just throwing them all out, but he had never been able to bring himself to do it.

> Dear Jim (aka sweetcheeks) 
> 
> We still on for tonight? I've been looking forward to it *all* day. I've got everything we need, at least according to the book. 
> 
> love and kisses D 

Jim laughed aloud, remembering that day and especially that night. He didn't blush about it anymore, didn't blush about *anything*, but...it had been something else. He flattened the paper carefully and lay it on top of the pile, digging into the box again. 

Looking through the reams of letters, Jim realized that there were a lot more awkward questions that Blair could have asked...was *going* to ask...and was grateful he had a little time to think about how to answer them. It had been *how* long since he'd last been with a guy? Jim had to think about it. Six months at least since he'd slept with anyone...about a year since he'd had any real relationship, and even it had been rather furtive and covert. He was good at that. 

Blair had never caught on to any of them, and Michael had gotten tired of always being left hanging because Jim needed to get home to his roommate. "Since when does a 34-year-old cop need a 27-year-old roommate?" he'd asked, and Jim didn't have a good answer for him. 

His glance slipped towards Blair's door again. There was just so much still ahead of them, and a lot of it was going to be really hard. He decided not to try anything that Blair didn't initiate, at least not without talking about it first. For the first while he wanted to be careful, about everything. This relationship meant more to him than, well, anything had in a long while. 

Jim stood up from the couch and walked over to Blair's door. Pausing for a moment to reflect on the morality of walking into Blair's room uninvited, he pushed open the door anyway and stepped up to the edge of the bed. Blair was sprawled across it on his stomach, still fully clothed, his hair fanned out in all directions. The expression on his face wasn't peaceful, as Jim had hoped. Worry lines creased his forehead and his mouth was set in a frown. 

He reached out and tucked a stray lock of hair behind Blair's ear so that he could see his face more clearly. He wished there was something he could do that would help, and began stroking his face lightly, trying to smooth out the lines. 

It helped a little, but Blair stirred restlessly. There was nothing to be done about the frown. Careful not to wake him, he slipped out of the room again and closed the door. It was barely past ten in the evening, but Blair had already had an emotionally exhausting day. So had he, really. Instead of feeling exhausted, though, he felt energized. A giant weight hadn't been dumped on him; it had been lifted. He only wished that there was someone he could talk to about it all. 

Of course there was always the man who had started it all--David--but Jim had no idea where he was. Besides, what would he say to him. "Hi David, you've finally been replaced in my life." No, that didn't cut it. He sat down again and stared at the phone. Michael maybe? They hadn't broken up on bad terms...the circumstances just hadn't been right for them. 

And Michael was a cop too, understanding intimately the need for discretion. He'd assumed once that Jim and Blair had already been sleeping together, but Jim had set him straight real fast. Blair had been a roommate, nothing more. He might actually be pleased to find out that Jim and Blair had finally taken that step. The decision was made when he remembered that Michael was now in a long-term relationship with a local lawyer. In the absence of anyone besides former lovers to call, he was the best choice. 

With a surprisingly shaky hand Jim dialed Michael's number, still from memory. He got the machine. "Shit, Michael, you always did have that great timing. It's Jim...just calling to talk. I know it's been-- 

"Jamie?" 

Jim was startled for a moment by his interrupted message, quickly realizing that Michael had picked up. 

"Hey Michael, how are you doing?" 

"Me? I'm doing great." He waited for Jim to say something further. "Is something wrong?" 

"Wrong? No, just thinking." 

"Well, you called to chat, man. So chat! What's on your mind?" 

"Mmm...a lot of things," said Jim, not intending to be evasive but succeeding nonetheless. "How are you and Gregory doing?" 

"Doing great, we got a condo together and we're moving in next month actually. I don't suppose we can count on you to lift a little furniture, could we?" 

Jim grinned to himself, even though he knew Michael couldn't see. "Just tell me when and where and I'll be there." 

"Good...so you haven't called in a month, Jim. What's going on? And do *not* give me that Ellison 'nothing' bullshit. Got me?" 

"Loud and clear," said Jim. "You, um, remember Blair?" 

Michael snorted. "How the hell could I forget Blair?" 

"Well, I left some stuff out and...well...he knows, now. About me. About us, too. About a lot of things." 

Jim heard Michael's swift intake of breath. "Wow, I figured on you keeping it from him forever. That closet of yours was pretty deep." 

"That's not the whole story." 

"Yeah." Jim could almost hear him nodding. "I guessed as much." 

"I think we're together now." 

"Together? As in *together* together?" 

"Yeah." 

"What the hell do you mean 'You *think*'?" 

"I mean...we *are* together. But..." 

"Out with it." 

"Blair isn't bi. Wasn't bi. Didn't know he was bi." 

"Oh, that's a problem." said Michael succinctly. "You put the moves on him anyway?" 

"I did *not* put the moves on him." 

"Okay. I'm waiting..." 

Jim sighed. "It was him. When he found out--he found out about David, not you--it seemed okay at first. I mean, he was asking questions and all, but who wouldn't. And he *is* an anthropologist. But I brought up maybe seeing someone...and he--" 

"He *what*?" 

"He told me that he didn't want me seeing someone else. That he wanted to be with me." 

"Okay..." said Michael. "I'm really failing to see where the problem is. That's great!" 

"What do you mean, you're failing to see where the problem is? Michael, he's never fallen for a guy before. That has a hell of a lot of implications behind it...and it's not something I've had to handle in a *long* time." 

Michael paused. "You want me to come over, Jamie? I'm not doing anything that can't wait, and you sound like you really need to talk about this." 

Jim looked at the half-full pizza box and thought about the beer in the fridge. 

"Could you?" 

"I'll be there in ten minutes, hang tight. Is Blair there with you?" 

"He's asleep," said Jim. "Probably will be for a while--he's a little stressed out over everything." 

"All right. Be right there." 

Jim was impatient for Michael to arrive. Now that he'd decided to go through with this and talk to someone--talk to *Michael*--he wanted to be doing it already. He knew his ex-lover could be relied upon to get there as soon as he could, so he pulled a couple of beers out of the fridge and checked on Blair briefly before settling down in the living room again. 

Michael let himself into the building and knocked on the door exactly 10 minutes later. "It's open," Jim called out, then winced and listened to make sure that Blair was still asleep. The other cop walked into the room and enveloped Jim in a hug. 

"Nice mess you've gotten yourself into, Jamie," he said as he made himself at home and grabbed a beer. 

"Gee, thanks." Jim watched as Michael took over the loft, the way he had every other time he'd been in it. It was hard to believe it was almost a year ago now since the last time he'd been over as Jim's lover, and about four months ago since the last time he'd been over at all. 

"So tell me how this all happened. I've never known you to be careless about this stuff. Hell, I was surprised you didn't have a lock on your closet all this time it was in there." 

"I'm not," said Jim, holding his head in his hands. "I don't know what got into me. Stuff like this, I don't leave lying around." 

"Ah, so you wanted him to know. You just hadn't anticipated his reaction to knowing." 

"Mike, I don't think *he* anticipated his reaction to knowing." 

"And that, my dear, is the whole crux of the problem, isn't it." 

"Mike..." Jim sighed. "Yes, it is. What do I do for him? He's twenty-eight years old and *just* discovering he's bisexual. The kid used to have women in this place practically every day of the week...this has got to be hitting him pretty hard." 

"Maybe not...maybe he's fine with it." 

"Trust me, he's not. And me just ready to maybe--maybe--crack open the closet door." 

"Like I said, a fine mess." 

"I don't need an echo, Mike, I need advice. What do I do for him?" 

"What *can* you do for him except be there? Listen and hold him and made sure that he's doing okay. That part of it, it's about *him*, not you. You should know that." 

"Yeah, I should. But I was *sixteen years old* when I went through this. Do you know how many years ago that was?" 

"Do you really want me to answer that, Jamie?" 

Jim had to grin, just a little. "But you get what I'm saying." 

"Yeah, I get what you're saying, Jim. And you think there's some sort of answer that will solve it all. Come on, man, you've lived in this world as long as I have; there are no easy answers and damned if I'm going to delude you by saying that there are." 

"You're a comfort." 

"Did you want me to be? Is that why you called?" 

Jim shook his head. "No. I'm just out of my element here. He's hurting, and I don't know what to do." 

"Jim, *he* is the one that is going to have to work that out. Not you." 

"I know." 

"Do you? I knew how you felt about him back when you were sleeping with *me*, even though you did everything you could to deny it to both of us. You want to protect him from the evil world. I hate to tell you, but you're S.O.L. there. And what's more, he doesn't need you to." 

"Then what do I *do*?" 

"Take it slow! *Wait* for him. Let him talk and tell him anything he wants to know. If he needs space, give him space. If he needs to be with you, then let him. Until he's comfortable, let him be the one to run the show. Like I said, Jamie--no miracles. Can I have some of that pizza?" 

"Huh? Oh, sure, help yourself." 

"So..." said Michael from the living room. "That does it for Blair. Now what about you?" 

"Huh?" 

"I believe the phrase was 'cracking open the closet door' was it not? When did *that* happen?" 

"Maybe that was a slight exaggeration," admitted Jim. "I was just thinking...well, thinking of being more like you. Not afraid." 

Michael laughed. "Not afraid? We're all afraid, Jamie." 

"You know what I mean. Willing to keep on, you know, living your life without worrying if someone will find out." 

"I worry...I just don't let it stop me. If I did, I wouldn't have anything in my life but my work..." 

"...like I did." finished Jim. "I'm not like that anymore." 

Michael smiled. "I've seen the kid working his charms on you at the station, even if we don't cross paths all that often. I'm surprised it's taken this long. Then again, maybe I'm not. Not if he's never...he's really never?" 

Jim nodded. 

"You sure know how to pick 'em." 

Jim laughed at himself. "Tell me about it. More beer?" 

"I'll get it," offered Michael, still standing. "You're avoiding the subject." 

"I am?" 

"Yeah, you're talking about me, and you're talking about Blair, and you're *not* talking about you. Your subconscious mind works in mysterious ways, Jamie. You left that stuff out so that Blair could find it, and you called me so that I could drag whatever you're feeling out of you. So spill. There's lots of beer and I have all night." 

Jim sighed heavily. "I don't know what I'm feeling." 

"Bullshit." 

"I don't! Come on, Mike, don't pin some kind of blind stereotype on me. I know what I feel for Blair--that's easy enough to know--but I don't know what *I'm* feeling. Relief at him knowing? A little, even though I thought my heart was gonna stop when David's name passed his lips. It was like the world was in slow motion. What about fear? I guess. But I'm not sure what exactly I'm afraid of in all this. Love? I know I love him. And I know he loves me. There's not a lot of confusion there." 

"You know, you *are* allowed to feel more than one thing at once..." 

"Yeah, I *know*, Mike. Tell me again why I invited you over?" 

"Cause right now I'm one of the best friends you've got," he said baldly, challenging Jim to tell him he was wrong. Jim couldn't. "Care if I add a couple of things to that list?" 

Jim shrugged. "Could I stop you?" 

"No," he said bluntly. "You, my friend, are scared out of your *mind*." 

"Like hell!" 

"I *know* you, Jamie. Here you are, all ready to maybe start having a life again. And then you come out, however unintentionally, to your roommate who, in *my* opinion, should have figured it out a long time ago. Then, on top of *that*, he tells you that *he* wants to be with *you*. So now you are so scared you're just locking everything down in typical Ellison fashion." 

Jim was silent. 

"So you admit it? Good. That's more than you ever did for me." Jim began a token protest but Mike cut him off. "Shh, don't bother denying it. We had a great time, Jamie, but we're long over it, and we both know we're much better off where we are now. Or will be. So you're scared, so what are you going to do about it?" 

Jim shrugged and gave Mike a questioning look, as though he really didn't know the answer to that. 

"Talk to you?" 

Mike laughed. "Yeah, great answer. Just...spend time with Blair. Don't worry about any of the other shit until he's cool with it, okay? And knowing what I do of him, it won't be too long." 

"Mike, there's more to him than most people ever get to see. Yeah, he adapts well, and *fast*, but...this is different." 

"Yeah, it is," came Blair's voice from behind them. 

Jim spun around to see Blair standing in his bedroom doorway, looking rumpled with sleep. 

"Blair!" 

"I can't believe you," he said, shaking his head. 

Jim stood up and went over to him, but Blair refused his embrace. 

"Blair, please...I needed someone to talk to about this." 

"I leave you for an hour and already you have someone else in here, Jim? Why?" 

"That's *not* what this is, Blair. Mike is..." 

"An 'old friend'?" asked Blair sarcastically. 

"Yes, Blair, he is an former *lover*. Former. And he's someone I trust implicitly. Come on, I know you're hurting, but please don't take it out on me right now. You know how I feel about you...and if you don't... Well, if you don't, I don't know." 

Blair wrapped his arms around himself. "I wasn't ready to deal with someone else knowing, Jim," he said, more of an admission than an accusation. 

"I'm sorry. *I* had to do this. Do you..." He gestured to the living room. "Do you want to join us?" 

Blair shook his head. "I don't think so, Jim. I just...I just called up a friend of mine, when I heard you two out here. He's going to be here in a few minutes." 

"Blair?" 

"I need to get out of here. Maybe I'm going to talk, maybe I'm not. I don't know." He reached out to touch Jim's cheek briefly. "I'll be back," he added, then glanced toward Michael. "Couldn't you have waited...at least told me first?" 

Jim shook his head. "No. I needed this, Blair. Please understand." 

Blair sighed. "I understand. I'm just..." 

"I know," said Jim. "I know. This friend...you trust him?" 

Blair mouth twisted into a half-smile. "Implicitly." 

"From...school?" 

He nodded. "Just someone I know...the only person I could think to call right now. I just need a little bit of distance. I'm sorry." 

Jim shook his head. "Don't be sorry, Blair. Be home soon?" 

"I, uh, guess I'll be home when we're done. I honestly don't know. But I will be home tonight." He reached out and brushed a thumb across Jim's lips. "I promise." 

Jim nodded. "And we'll talk...together?" 

"Yeah...I *am* sorry, Jim. I am." 

"Please, don't be sorry, Blair. It's okay." 

A knock at the door interrupted them and with a last, wide-eyed look at Jim, Blair went to it and slipped out without another word. 

Jim took two steps forward and stared at Michael. 

"Did I just let him go?" he said, surprised to find that he was shaking. 

Michael nodded. "Yeah, you did. And you did the right thing. A trapped Blair is an unhappy Blair, you always said." He looked at his former lover sympathetically. "It ain't easy, is it." He sat down on the couch and motioned for Jim to sit next to him, putting a friendly arm around him when he did. "Blair probably needs someone to talk to, too," he said. 

Jim nodded, his voice distant. "Yeah, I know, that's why I let him go..." 

While Mike puzzled over Jim's absent state, Jim followed the conversation as Blair and his friend walked down the stairs and got into his car. The first words out of Blair's mouth had been to ask his friend how his relationship with Rob was going, and the response had been that things were fabulous. 

He wasn't worried...much. The *last* thing on Blair's mind right now--and probably ever--would be to screw around with another guy. He was glad that Blair had someone to go to, even if it was someone that Jim had never met. Besides, Blair and Michael had only met once; he could hardly expect Blair to want to stay there with them right now. He'd *promised* to come back tonight, and Blair never broke promises he didn't have to. 

"Earth to Jim." 

Jim came back to a hand waving in his face. 

"Huh?" 

"Thought we'd lost you there. Are you all right? 

Jim shook it off. "I'm all right," he lied. 

"Blair is going to be fine," said Michael, out of the blue. "Don't worry about Blair right now. Blair is doing exactly what you are doing." 

"Christ, Mike, we've only been together a few *hours* and already we're in crisis." 

Michael actually laughed. "Crisis, Jim? I know you're stressed, but this is no crisis. This is...jitters. Have some more beer." 

"He couldn't have talked to me? He was talking to me before..." 

"No, Jim, he *couldn't* talk to you," he explained patiently. "You're too close to the situation. Think for more than two seconds and you'll know it's true." 

"I know that," said Jim firmly. "I know that." 

"Good," said Michael. "Just relax a little and it'll all work out all right." 

Jim tried. 

<><><><><><><><><><> 

Blair fought the urge to look back at Jim, knowing that if he did he might just turn right around and race straight into his arms. That wouldn't do either of them any good. It was so easy and natural for him to feel things for Jim. What wasn't easy was *dealing* with those feelings--those feeling in him, for another man. Right now it was just...overwhelming. 

"Blair, honey?" asked Ryan, glancing at his friend with wide, concerned brown eyes. "What's so important you had to call me at 11 at night to talk about?" 

"It's...let's wait a bit on that. How are you and Rob doing?" 

Ryan rode with the flow of the conversation. "Me and Rob? We were doing great until you called." 

Blair blushed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean..." 

"*Kidding*, hon. I was just kidding. In truth, things are pretty good, but he was so engrossed with his computer I don't even think he noticed that I went out." He rolled his eyes and gave Blair an impish grin that was, after a pause, returned. 

They reached the bottom of the stairs and strolled casually through the front door of the building. "So when *are* you going to start talking?" asked Ryan, trying to prompt the other man to at least say something. 

Blair looked up at the window to the loft and shook his head. 

"Just drive for a bit. I'll tell you when." 

Ryan shrugged and got into the driver's seat, pulling away from the curb and heading up Prospect once Blair was safely inside. 

"Where are we headed then?" 

"Um....Sunstone," said Blair. "They're open late, aren't they?" 

Ryan nodded. "They had a classical guitarist in tonight. Rob says that he's amazing. Did you have some sort of fight with Jim?" 

Blair shook his head. "No, not a fight. Can this wait 'til you're not driving?" 

Ryan looked at him sympathetically. "That bad, huh. Dumped?" 

Blair shook his head again. 

"Computer crash?" 

Blair rolled his eyes and shook his head yet again. 

"Stop speculating and drive," he said. "We'll talk when we get there." 

"All right, all right. No need to get testy, hon. I'm only trying to help." 

"I know," sighed Blair. They pulled up to the coffeehouse and stepped inside the room. It was crowded, but Blair was still comfortable talking there, even about this. 

Ryan grabbed them a table and ordered two lattes before Blair could stall any longer. 

"Blair, sweetie, talk to me, would you?" 

"Ryan, I..." Blair was again at a loss for words. 

"You what?" 

"I'm...I'm going out with Jim." 

Ryan was glad the drinks hadn't been served yet or he would have spit his out all over the table. "I'm sorry, hon, I must have misheard that. You're *what*?" 

"I'm seeing Jim," he repeated, almost disbelievingly. He looked at his friend with pleading eyes. "What the hell am I going to do?" 

"That depends...are you looking for advice...or diagrams?" 

"Ry...please!" 

"I'm sorry, Blair. I am. But it's not like this is a bad thing. It's *not*. So tell me what happened, luv." 

"I don't *know* what happened. I mean, I don't know how it happened, it just did." 

"But isn't that how the best things start?" he asked with a smile. 

Blair couldn't return it. "Come on, Ry, help me out here, would you?" 

Ryan looked Blair up and down and struggled not to shake his head. "When did you know that you wanted to be with him?" 

"With *him*," repeated Blair. "Jim is a *him*. How could that happen?" 

"If I weren't so bloody fond of you I might take that as an insult," he replied. "How could it happen? Does it matter?" 

"It matters to me." 

"Yeah, I suppose it does," said Ryan, a little sadly. "Never thought you, of all people, would be so closed-minded, though." 

"I am *not* closed-minded." 

"Oh? Then what's the problem?" 

Blair actually stopped to think. "I...don't know exactly. Except that I was so sure I was straight. I mean, I was *positive* I was straight." 

Ryan snorted. "Yeah, so was I. I guess the 'dar was a little haywire the day we met." 

"So, I just...it's like suddenly I'm not *me*." 

"Then who are you?" 

"I mean, this isn't a part of the me that I knew." 

"Maybe not, but it doesn't take away from what you already are." 

Blair shook his head. "That's not true." 

"What do you mean it isn't true?" 

"I mean that it *does* take things away...my confidence, my self- image...a lot of things." 

"Only because you let it." 

"I'm not *letting* 'it' do anything, Ry. It just is. This is screwing me around, big time." 

"Yeah," said Ryan quietly, "I see that. When did all this happen?" 

"Tonight...I found out that Jim's bi. And it just sorta came together...all the things that I had been feeling in the back of my mind were suddenly in the front. And *I* didn't know what the hell to do with them. So we were talking and...and I told him. I didn't think I could bear to see him with another man." 

Ryan nodded. "It's okay, darlin'." 

Blair smiled, grateful that Ryan was there. "So...what do I do?" 

"What do you *want* to do?" 

"Well...what did *you* do...when you found out you were gay?" 

"Well, Blair, I started dating men." 

Blair rolled his eyes. "That's not what I meant." 

"I know it isn't, hon. But I don't know what to tell you. I probably did the same thing you are...looked for someone to talk to." 

"And they said...?" 

Ryan reached out to take Blair's hands into his. "Blair, you've just got to take things one at a time. Be with Jim. Experiment a little. Find out what you want if you don't already know. And you can talk to him...I'm sure he'll understand. I *know* he will. We've all been there, sweetie. You've just got to muddle your way through." 

Blair sighed. "I guess I knew that already." 

"You just needed to hear someone say it?" 

"Something like that." 

Ryan took a sip of the drink that in the midst of their conversation had appeared in front of him. "You know that I really didn't mind coming out here with you, don't you? That you can call me any time?" 

Blair nodded. "I know. Thank you. I'm just....really confused right now." 

Ryan touched his arm sympathetically. "The only thing that's going to fix that is time." 

<><><><><><><><><><> 

Blair looked at his watch just before opening the door to the loft. It was one in the morning. He wondered if Jim was still awake, if he was even still there. As quietly as he could, he slipped his key into the lock and opened it. 

The first thing he saw was Jim sitting serenely on the couch, looking at the door. 

"Jim?" he said quietly. Taking a deep breath, he walked over to his partner and planted a brief kiss on his slightly-parted lips. 

Jim smiled. "You doing okay?" 

"I'm doing okay...how about you?" 

"Doing okay here too. I was just waiting for you to get home." 

"I know." 

"Michael left about an hour ago or so." Hi eyes never left Blair's face, waiting for some word about where he'd gone or what he'd done. 

He just nodded. "I never realized you two were, you know, more than friends," 

"Yeah, we were," said Jim honestly. "But I'm sure you don't want to hear about that." 

"I do." Blair sat down next to him. "I do want to know." 

Jim's expression turned curious. "Why?" 

"Why? Because it was a part of your life. And because he's your friend and I know nothing about him." While Blair's voice was quiet, it was nonetheless earnest. 

"All right." Jim smiled at him affectionately. "I guess whatever we had started almost two years ago--two guys alone at one of those Cascade P.D. function that you couldn't make. We got to talking and, well, one thing led to another..." Led into the bedroom, of course...somewhere neither one of them had been with someone else in too long... 

"And then...?" 

Jim hadn't realized he had stopped talking; the memories had kept going in his head. 

"It barely lasted a year. He got tired of me always hiding him from you, and everyone else for that matter. He isn't out at the station, but he is and was a lot more open than me. Under different circumstances, we might have still been together--we were good." 

"You guys broke up because of me?" 

"No, we broke up because of *me*. Because I couldn't be everything he wanted me to. And maybe because I didn't love him enough, because already my heart was being pulled toward someone else. 

Blair didn't say anything, but his head had come to rest against Jim's shoulder. Jim reached out and stroked his hair for a moment. 

"Thanks for the time to myself tonight," said Blair finally. "Me and Ryan, we went out for coffee. Had a good talk." 

"Good." 

After another moment, Blair got up. 

"I think it's time to get some sleep." 

Jim lifted himself off the couch. "Listen, Blair. I don't expect you to do it tonight...I just want you to know that you're welcome upstairs with me anytime." 

Blair paused a moment and then nodded. "Thanks, Jim," He brushed his lips against Jim's again, "but my own room will be fine for tonight. I'll see you in the morning, all right?" 

"In the morning," agreed Jim. "Sweet dreams." 

"You, too, Jim," said Blair, disappearing into his bedroom. "You, too." 

<><><><><><><><><><> Blair woke up with a start and looked at his clock. It read 6:30 am...Jim was going to be up any time now. He tried to roll over and fall asleep again, but after tossing and turning for a couple of minutes, he realized that it was no use. Flipping his legs over the side of the bed, he sat there for a moment and then got to his feet, softly padding up the stairs to Jim's loft. 

He lay down experimentally, so close to the edge of the bed he was almost falling off. Gradually, he moved back inch by inch until his body and Jim's were just barely touching. He lay like that for a moment, then silently got out of the bed and went back downstairs to start breakfast. 

Jim opened his eyes and smiled. 

Blair was almost finished scrambling the eggs when the cop finally came downstairs, tucking a white T-shirt into his jeans. "Smells good, Chief." 

Blair looked up at him. "Thanks. You want toast?" 

Jim nodded. "Yeah, thanks. Did you get the paper yet?" 

"No, I thought we'd get it on the way to the station. I have a question for you." 

"What?" 

"Yesterday, *way* back when you first got home, you asked if David had called. Were you expecting him to or something?" 

Jim was a little thrown for a moment. "Um, yeah, actually I was. I told you about our camping trips, right?" 

Blair nodded. 

"Well, I haven't heard from him in months, and the date's coming up on us fast. I've been waiting for him to get ahold of me for weeks." 

"Well, can't you just call *him*?" 

"I would if I knew how, but he's never in the same place for long." 

Blair nodded. "Like my mom. What does he do?" 

Jim shrugged. "This and that. He's a freelance writer. Last time we talked, he was getting into a little political activism." Jim chuckled a little. "He's a *lot* more out than I am." 

"Oh. Orange juice?" 

Jim sat down at the table. "Thanks." 

"So you're still going camping with him this summer?" 

Jim didn't even look up. "I don't know, Chief. Maybe. Is that okay?" 

"Yeah, sure, of course it's okay. Coffee?" 

Jim held out his cup so that Blair could pour. "If he doesn't get ahold of me soon, I guess it's off, though. That'd be a shame." 

"I'd like to meet him." 

"You would?" 

"Yeah. I know Carolyn, the other major relationship in your life. Why shouldn't I know David, too?" 

"Well, um, sure, Chief." 

"Thanks." 

Jim finished off his breakfast quickly and headed into the bathroom to get ready for work. Blair watched him go, an almost puzzled expression on his face. It had been comfortable slipping into Jim's bed with him--way more comfortable than he would have thought and just as perfect as he'd imagined. It had been even better when they'd touched. He didn't think it would be long until he took Jim up on his invitation, and hoped that his partner would be okay leaving it at *just* sleep for a while. Blair didn't think--no, he *knew*--that he wasn't ready for anything else. 

Fifteen minutes later they were on their way to the station as though nothing had changed between them at all, but the moment they parked-- just before they got out of the truck--Jim touched his hand briefly, reassuringly, and Blair knew that things were never going to be quite the same again. 

<><><><><><><><><><> 

A week later and things were even better. Jim woke up every morning to the feel of Blair crawling into bed with him--at first just for a minute or so, but gradually longer, until this morning Blair lay there spooned against him until Jim acknowledged it. He wasn't sure whether he was supposed to reach out and curl an arm around Blair, or just lie there listening to his shallow rapid breaths.--more from nervousness than from arousal, he assumed. Finally, he just coughed quietly and said, "Good morning." 

Blair shifted slightly. "Good morning, Jim." 

"What time is it?" 

He could feel Blair shrug. "It's Sunday; does it matter?" He was making no motion to get up, so Jim lifted a hand out of the blankets and lay it on his lover's forearm. 

"If it's Sunday, does that mean we're going back to sleep?" 

Blair, who had been facing away and letting Jim's form envelop him closely, rolled over towards his lover. Leaning forward, he gave Jim a slow, deep kiss. They had been kissing every day--when they met in the morning, saying hello, saying good-bye, saying goodnight, but never anything like this. 

After a moment of hesitation Jim kissed him back, but he let the younger man be the one to reach out to him and deepen the embrace. When the kiss finally faded, Blair laid his head on Jim's chest. 

"This is nice," he said mildly. 

Jim smiled, even though Blair wasn't in a position to see. Trust Blair to be as bouncy as a child over evidence in a case and composed about something like this. 

"Yeah, it is," he replied. 

"Can I sleep some more, here, with you?" 

Jim kissed the top of his head. "I'd love it if you did." Blair was relatively quick to fall fast asleep again in Jim's arms, but the other man remained awake and watched him the whole time. 

It was about eleven a.m. when Blair awoke for good, his head automatically tilting upwards to receive a good morning kiss. There was no waking up in a strange bed and wondering where he was--he *knew* where he was, and who he was with. It was where he wanted to be. After getting up out of the bed and snagging Jim's robe before the other man could protest, Blair stood at the top of the stairs for a moment. 

"Pancakes okay for breakfast?" he asked him. 

Jim nodded. "Sounds good, Chief. I'll be right down." He eyed the robe but let it slide; he *liked* seeing the oversized object draped over Blair's body so intimately. 

Blair padded down the stairs and Jim stretched, stiff after so long in bed. He threw his legs over the side and wiped his only-slightly- bleary eyes before getting to his feet and finding something to throw on. Looking down at himself, he decided that the boxer shorts would do, for now. And if someone showed up at the door, so be it. 

Blair looked his partner up and down. "I like the look," he teased, opening his arms so that Jim could walk into them and give him a bone-crunching hug. "Hey, easy, man," he laughed, "I've only got one body and it had better last me for a while." 

Jim released him and walked over to start the coffeemaker. 

"Anything on the agenda for today?" 

"Not a thing." 

It hadn't been a great week--things at the station had been hopping and Blair'd had to administer two mid-terms as well as collect a set of papers at the university. Not a lot of time to talk, but they made that time along the way. Jim had been delighted by this morning, but he was still not going to push Blair into any more. 

This afternoon maybe they could sit down, put some music on, and just relax for a little while--not worry about anything that was going on. It had always been Jim's way to spend Sundays in his quiet home, looking out over the city and watching the boats in the bay when the day was clear enough. It was nice, now, to have someone to share that peace with. 

Life with Blair, after all, was seldom peaceful. 

He registered the sound of the phone ringing, and Blair picking it up, but he didn't turn to look, instead popping some bread in the toaster and opening the fridge, looking for the juice. 

"Jim, it's for you." 

The phone call lasted a total of four minutes before Jim set down the receiver with a puzzled look on his face. 

"Jim?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Who was that?" 

"That was, um, David." 

Blair almost dropped the bottle of syrup in his hand, but managed to hold on with a tight, white-knuckled grip. 

"David?" 

"Yeah, he says he isn't going to be able to make the trip this year; he's working on some big project." 

"Oh? That's too bad." He tried to sound sympathetic, but instead came across more relieved than anything. 

Jim shrugged half-heartedly. "That's not the odd part." 

"Odd part?" 

"Yeah, he said I'm going to be getting some sort of big surprise soon." 

"What, he's pregnant with your love child?" smirked Blair. 

Jim swatted him with the morning paper. "I have *no* idea what he's talking about. Hm. Well, he does still have some of my old stuff. Maybe he's finally going to give it back." 

"Jim, you don't know much about break-ups, do you? You can kiss that stuff *goodbye*." 

"Kinda like my wine goblets that somehow left with Carolyn," he admitted reluctantly. "Well, it was a thought." 

"You like blueberries?" asked Blair, mixing the pancake batter. 

Jim nodded. "Yeah, sure. I'm just gonna take a quick shower. See you in a few." Jim slipped into the bathroom and took a shower, trying to get the phone call out of his mind. It didn't work, but hopefully spending the whole day with Blair would. 

<><><><><><><><><><> 

"Do you miss him?" 

Blair's question came out of the blue, between a walk down Prospect with Jim and the beginning of the evening news. 

"Miss who?" 

"David." 

"No," said Jim honestly, without having to give it much thought. "I don't miss him. I don't event think about him much. If David had stayed in my life, I don't know how it would have turned out, and I'm quite happy with things the way they are." 

"Was it worth it, then? Being with him?" 

"Yeah," said Jim, smiling. "It was worth it. And even after it ended, it gave me images to cling to all the time I needed something, on a dozen missions that could have been my last. What we had was both exciting and wonderful and agonizing...but don't get me wrong, it's also definitely *over*." 

Blair smiled. "I'm not worried. Just...curious." 

It was easier for Jim now to talk to Blair about David--not that it had been so hard before, but the call had actually given him the impetus to sit down and talk about it. Talk about their first date, their first time, their vacations to Vegas and to Mexico. It was like the floodgates had been opened on that relationship. He even pulled out a whole *book* of pictures to share. And when the evening was winding to a close and Blair was sitting back on the couch with half a glass of wine in one hand and stifling a yawn with the other, Jim made his decision about the journal he had set aside a week ago. 

"Blair," he said quietly. "I know this is still kinda rough on you." Blair didn't nod, but Jim knew that it was. "This is...this is a journal that I kept when I was sixteen. When I was....well, when I was there. I want you to have it, to read it. If you want." 

Blair took the black-bound journal from Jim's outstretched hand. "You mean that?" 

Jim nodded. "I used to write it all down...what I was thinking and, um, feeling. It was a long time ago--that book probably remembers a lot more than I do." 

"Thank you," said Blair simply. 

"Just one thing," said Jim. "There are going to be things in there... that aren't, well, pretty. I may not bring them up on my own...but if you want to, you can ask." 

Blair nodded, obviously not knowing what Jim was referring to, but appreciating the gesture nonetheless. 

"I'm going to head up to bed now," he said, gesturing to the stairs. "Do you want to...?" 

Blair shook his head, but he was smiling. "I'll see you in the morning," he said. 

Jim nodded and went up the stairs. 

<><><><><><><><><><> 

The station was unusually quiet when Jim stepped off the elevator the next morning. He looked from one colleague to another, and finally made a beeline for Simon's office. 

"Simon," he said, knocking on the door. "Simon, what the hell's going on around here?" 

Simon opened his door and pulled Jim inside. "Jim, I didn't expect to see you this morning." 

"Why the hell not? What's the big deal?" 

"Didn't you watch the news this morning? Read the paper?" 

Jim shook his head. "I slept in, came straight to the station." 

Simon sighed and pushed his copy of the morning paper towards Jim. The headline read "Prominent Cascade Citizens Outed by Militant Gay Rights Group" 

Jim snatched the paper up and scanned the article until his own name jumped out at him. "...big surprise..." he muttered to himself, his eyes widening. "Oh my God, Simon!" 

Simon ran a hand over his face and shook his head. "These groups, they're always doing this to get media attention, Jim. We all know that. But people have trouble telling the truth for the hype, and you have no idea what this is going to do to the station." 

"To the *station*, Simon?" said Jim. "Did you give any thought to what it's going to do to *me*?" 

"We both know what this is, Jim. That it's just a publicity ploy..." Jim just looked at him steadily for a moment. "Tell me it isn't true, Jim," he said, his hand falling away from his face and his muscles tightening in anticipation of the response. 

Jim couldn't answer him. 

"Jim?" 

He sat down. "And if it is?" he said quietly. This time it was Simon who was speechless. "What if it is?" repeated Jim. "What then?" 

"Is it?" 

Jim nodded, taking a deep breath. "I'm bisexual, sir." He paused, the dead silence in the office deafening. "So, what now?" 

Simon slammed his coffee cup down on the desk. "Jesus, Jim, why didn't you tell me? I'm your *friend*!" 

Jim stood up again and started pacing the office. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but I valued my career too much for that. We don't exactly have the time to discuss that decision right now." 

"Then we'll damn well *make* time," said Simon in a tone of voice that shot down in a heartbeat any kind of argument to the contrary. 

"Simon," said Jim, sounding pained. "I've had a hell of a week to begin with. Do you know how much I don't need *this* right now? I don't need to be answering to *anyone* about my private life. Not even you. And *especially* not to every damn citizen of Cascade who reads the paper. How long before the chief of police comes down on me over this? Before my barber knows? My grocery clerk? Before I have to watch my back against, not only criminals, but *my own*? I don't need this, dammit!" 

Simon backed off. "Jim...I've got to know...are you and Sandburg...?" 

"NO," said Jim, "you do *not* need to know that!" 

Simon looked startled. 

"But," he went on, "Blair and I are *not* sleeping together. All right?" Jim picked up the paper again and slammed it back down. "I can't believe he would do this to me!" 

"Who?" 

Jim shot him a glare. "Just...someone I know." He sat down again. How am I going to go back out there?" 

"Jim....you could still deny the story." 

Jim looked like he was thinking about it, but shook his head. "I can't do that, not anymore. Besides, there are dozens of people named in that story. My denying it wouldn't do *them* any good. What the hell were these guys *thinking* of?" 

"It's a powerful tool for their cause, to out people," said Simon, his voice more resigned with every word. 

"Jim, you have no idea how sorry I am that it was you..." 

"You're sorry. Simon, you have *no* idea what I'm going through right now. I need to get out of here." 

"Take a sick day, then," said Simon. "And if you were at all concerned about it,your job here is in no danger. There are laws." 

"It had better not be," he replied darkly before leaving the office. 

The usual noise of the bullpen died down again as Jim exited the office. He clenched his fists at his sides as he made his way to his desk. He might not be able to stand being in here today, but damned if he was going to let this get in the way of his job. He couldn't let it. 

He'd been working with Brown on one of his cases and, after picking up his work off his desk, he made his way over there. He reached to tap the other detective on the shoulder, but Brown flinched away. 

Jim snapped. 

Shoving everything off of Brown's desk in a fit of frustration, he cleared his throat and addressed the room. "Listen up!" he yelled to the entire Major Crime bullpen. "I know damn well you've already read the news. Well, fine! That's just great! But why the hell don't you ask me about it? Too fucking chicken? Yes, I'm bisexual. Happy? Feel like your lives are complete now that I've told you?" He grabbed the file he needed from the pile on the floor. "I, at least, am going to get some work done." With that, he walked out of the room without a single look back. 

The moment he was on the other side of the opaque glass, he leaned against the wall and closed his eyes, all the adrenaline draining from his body. _What the hell did I just do? That is *not* how I intended to come out. Ever. How the hell am I going to explain this to Blair?_

Motion in the bullpen did not resume for a good two minutes--the first noises Jim heard were the sounds of Brown picking up his papers off the floor. Then the buzz of conversation began again. Jim could have listened, if he'd wanted to, but he didn't have the energy to deal with it. Instead, he headed to the elevator and took it down to the parking garage. He picked up a newspaper on his way back to the loft. 

<><><><><><><><><><> 

"Detective Ellison!" 

Jim started at the voice calling him as he walked the short distance between his truck and the front door of his building. Turning, he was shocked to see a man with a microphone quickly making his way towards him, his cameraman in tow. 

"Detective Ellison, how does it feel to have been--" 

Jim shook his head in disbelief, tuning out the rest of what the man had to say in his haste to get into the safety of his loft and out of this world turned upside down. 

Arriving inside, he tossed his keys into the basket half-heartedly and collapsed onto the couch without even taking his shoes off. The light on the answering machine was blinking, but he had no desire to listen to the messages. Some masochistic tendency, though, made him lean over and hit the play button. 

The phrase "You have sixteen new messages" did nothing to improve his spirits. 

The first message was from Simon, then five from other officers--Jim skipped over those, he'd deal with them later. One from Carolyn, thankfully offering her support, and Jim said a silent prayer to the god of understanding ex-wives. Michael called, *and* Gregory, giving their cell phone numbers and telling him to call. Then Carolyn calling again, leaving *her* number in case he needed to reach her. The bloody *mayor* called, of all people. Jim skipped that one too, even though he knew it was probably important. Blair's friend Kim from the university. Stephen--Jim was definitely going to have to call *him* right back. Simon calling again, asking where he was. Michael again, asking where he was. 

The last call was from Blair. 

"Jim? I know you're not home, man, but I can't deal with calling the station right now. I'm, um, I'm staying with a friend tonight. I think you know why. I am *not* leaving you...I just need time. This is *so* not what I needed. Or you. I'm here in my office right now if you need to call. Don't know how much good I'll be, though. Maybe this can wait until tomorrow. I don't know...everything's just so fucked right now. Do whatever you need to do. Bye." 

Jim closed his eyes and, for the first time in sixteen and a half years, felt tears slipping down his cheeks. Slamming his hands against the coffee table so hard he almost broke them, he screamed "Fuck!" at the top of his lungs. Angrily scrubbing the tears from his face, he stared at the traitorous answering machine, wishing that smashing it to a pulp would do any good. 

A few long deep breaths and he'd gotten himself under some semblance of control, enough to dial the number for Blair's office before he could back down. 

"Blair Sandburg's office." 

Jim wondered how Blair could sound so calm and cheerful. 

"Blair?" 

"Jim!" Jim heard Blair cover the receiver with his palm and tell someone named Diana that he needed to take this call alone. 

"Blair..." he repeated, at a loss for what to say. 

"How are you holding up?" asked Blair hesitantly. 

"I'm not." Jim paused and tried to pull his thoughts together. When he spoke again, his voice sounded weak and tired. "When...when are you coming home?" 

"I'm sorry," he said, and Jim could hear the quaver in his voice. "Jim, I can't..." 

"Blair, I *need* you! You know I wouldn't say that if I didn't mean it. Please?" 

"Jim...I can't...I mean. People are already starting to talk. My whole career's on the line here..." 

" I don't want to make you choose," he said carefully, the phone shaking in his hand. 

"Please, don't..." said Blair, his voice cracking. "I can't...I want to be with you. I don't know how to deal with this, not now. Once my thesis is done, once I have tenure, then it doesn't matter. I can't lose this...and I can't lose you." 

"Blair, you're talking years..." 

"Then what do I do?" 

"Come home," he said, his voice barely a whisper. 

"I...I was going to stay with Ryan and Rob tonight. To try and sort this out. There were already reporters outside the loft when I left this morning." 

"They're still here," admitted Jim. "Blair...people know you're staying here. It's not some big mystery and I'm *sorry* you're getting the fallout from this, but you just can't imagine what kind of day I've had, Blair. You *can't*. Not unless your name had been in that list too." 

Blair was silent for too long. 

"Blair?" 

"So," he said, trying to be casual but sounding more strained than Jim had ever heard him. "Do you want me to pick up something for dinner?" 

Jim let out the breath that he had been holding, half a sob coming out with it. 

"Thank you." 

He could hear Blair sigh on the other end of the line. "I can get out of here in...about half an hour. Get Kim to cover my class." 

"I have some calls to make, myself," said Jim. "I'll be waiting for you, Blair." 

"I'll be there. I promise." 

Jim could hear the noise of someone else entering Blair's office. "I have to go." 

"I know." 

"Bye." 

"Bye." He held the receiver in his hand long after Blair had hung up. "I love you," he whispered into the broken connection. 

The moment Jim set down the receiver the phone rang again. He thought about picking it up, but decided to let the machine get it. The way his day was going, his father had already gotten the news out in Chicago. 

"Hi, James. You don't know me, but I'm the local president of the Gay, Lesbian and Bisexual Law Enforcement Officer's Association. My name is Jacob Lansing. If you could give me a call at 555-2337 we can set up a time to get together. Thank you and I hope to talk to you soon." 

Jim groaned and stood up, pacing the living room. He looked at the clock; only 3 minutes had gone by since he'd finished talking to Blair. Taking a deep breath, he walked back over to the phone and sat down, dialing the number for Stephen's office. 

"Hi, Jim." 

Jim noted the cool tone in his brother's voice. 

"Hi, Stephen, I got your message." 

"I called as soon as I saw the paper. Are you all right?" 

Jim's breath caught in his throat and he didn't know whether to jump for joy or wait for the other shoe to drop. 

"All right? Am I all right? I...I'm holding it together, I guess." 

"Jim...I've seen these guys in action before. They may be cruel, but they're honest. Is there something you want to tell me?" 

Jim could almost see the expression on his brother's face. "Guess there's no room for me in my closet anymore, huh. Yeah, it's true." 

Stephen was quiet for a moment, and Jim pictured him thinking the whole idea over a time or three, trying to work it into his picture of his brother. 

"I'd wondered," he said finally. 

"You what?" 

"I'd wondered. I know we never saw much of each other after...after what happened. But...I don't know. You're my brother. I don't know what else to say." 

"Neither do I." 

"So you're not going to deny it?" 

"What's the point? It's true, isn't it. But damn it, this whole thing has hurt so many people already, and I can only imagine it getting worse." Jim rested his head on his hand, the weight of the situation pressing down on him once again. 

"Well, if you need a good lawyer..." 

"I hope it doesn't come to that." 

"You sure you're doing all right?" 

"No, I'm *not* doing all right. But I'm coping. Trying to, anyway." 

"How's Blair taking it?" 

"Blair?" 

"Yeah. You *are* together...aren't you?" 

Jim hesitated, struggling for the right words. "Blair wasn't mentioned in the news, Stephen." 

"Blair wasn't Officer of the Year, now, was he?" 

"I'm not sleeping with Blair." 

"I see." 

"Thanks for calling, Stephen. I've got about a dozen other calls to make...." 

"You know where to find me." 

"Yeah, thanks." 

"See you around." 

_One down,_ thought Jim as he hung up the phone. Which immediately rang again. This time he didn't even *think* of answering it. He glanced at the clock--twenty minutes 'til Blair. 

Jim walked into the kitchen and poured himself a cup of cold coffee, popping it in the microwave to heat it up. He tried to ignore the call, even though he could hear it clearly no matter where he was in the apartment. It was just someone he knew from the service, and *not* someone he wanted to deal with any time soon. Not someone he needed to deal with if he didn't want to. 

Reheated coffee in hand, he headed back to the phone and dialed Michael's number. 

"Jim, is that you?" 

"Yeah, it's me." 

"Where are you?" 

"At home." 

"I'll be there in five minutes. Don't move a muscle." 

Jim started to protest, but Michael had already hung up. In a way, he was relieved. Michael would be cool about everything. Michael would know what to do. 

A sound at the door drew Jim's attention...*and* his gun. 

"Who's there?" 

"Whoa, easy there, Jim! It's just me!" The sound of Blair's voice sent a jolt of relief through Jim's body. 

"Blair, you're early." 

"I cut office hours short and took off right away," he said. He couldn't say another word before he was enveloped in Jim's arms. 

"I've already had a hell of a day and it's barely even started," he said, nuzzling Blair's hair. "I'm glad you came home." 

"I think I am, too," said Blair, uncertainly. "Jim...I've been *trying* to understand what you must be going through. I really have. And all I can think of is how hard this is...for me. I'm sorry." 

"It's hard for *us*," said Jim. 

"A bunch of people were coming up to me at school...asking me why I didn't tell them. And they weren't asking about you, Jim. They were asking about me. I'm...I'm not handling this very well." 

"Neither am I this time, Blair. But whenever anyone asked...I said we weren't sleeping together. I figured that's how you would want it." 

Blair hesitated. "Maybe this morning, before we went out, that's how I would have wanted it. But how long before people figure it out on their own? A day? An hour? I'm outed as much as you are, Jim, even if my name isn't in print. You don't need to do that for me." 

"I would, if you needed me to." 

"I know, but when people came by today and asked...I told them, Jim. I actually told people about us. And then...that's when I started to get freaked. I called Ryan and he said I could stay there if I needed some time. And then I called you. I guess I fucked that one up, huh?" 

"I don't care right now if I can't tell a single person about you, Blair, but don't leave me right now. I couldn't deal with that on top of everything else." 

"I didn't know what else to do." 

"Stay?" 

"I'm here, Jim." 

He tilted Blair's head up and kissed him as though their entire relationship depended on it. Maybe it did. Blair's hands came up to clutch the front of Jim's shirt and pulled him closer, gripping it so tightly his knuckles began to turn white. When they finally drew apart, Jim was smiling. "You know, that's the best thing that's happened to me all day." 

Blair leaned over and pulled something out of his backpack--the journal Jim had given him the night before. "You know what?" he said. "I was reading this last night. And...in one part you said it was the worst time of your life. Is that still true?" 

Jim nodded without hesitation. "It was the hardest," he said. "This, now. Well, it's *hell*. But it's not as hard as coming out to myself in the first place." 

"We can talk about it...another time." He fingered the book, then lay it down on the kitchen counter. "Jim?" 

"Yeah?" 

"I love you, you know." 

Jim gripped Blair in another tight hug. "I love you, too, Chief. I love you too." 

Slowly he pulled Blair to the couch where they both sat down heavily. The phone rang, and Blair looked surprised when Jim didn't bother answering. 

"It's not worth it," he explained, sighing. "I don't want to talk to anyone right now." 

"Except me?" 

Jim smiled. "That goes without saying." 

He reached out and turned the volume on the answering machine down before the message started so he wouldn't even have to hear it. It wouldn't be anything that couldn't wait until he was good and ready to deal with it. 

"Blair?" 

Blair turned towards Jim's voice. 

"Is this really going to hurt your career?" 

Blair shifted uncomfortably. "Well, no," he admitted. "I don't know. Probably not. Being, um, gay--or bisexual--at Rainier isn't much of a big deal. But a lot of places it is." 

"Like at the station." 

Blair winced. "I know it's harder for you, man. I *know* that. I just can't...*feel* it. You know? Like the subject is purely intellectual, even though you're sitting right next to me." 

Jim nodded, understanding...intellectually. "I...did something kind of stupid," he admitted. Blair looked wary. "I lost my cool at the station." 

"Jim...what did you do?" 

"I...well, I made a bit of a declaration. About me, not about us," he added quickly. "Let's just say I'm now a self-declared bisexual, at least at the station. It's not just a rumor or a name in a paper anymore." 

"Jim!" 

"I was scared and pissed off and ready to fight someone. I did the only thing I could think to do." He sighed. "At least they know." 

"How are you going to go back to the station tomorrow? Or ever?" 

"I wasn't thinking about that at the time." 

"Clearly." 

"Are you going to come with me?" 

Blair gaped at him. "Are you kidding me? I...I *can't*!" 

"I understand." And he did understand *that* at least. _God, what am I putting him through?_

Blair blindly reached out to caress Jim's knee with his hand. "I don't know what we're going to do, Jim. How did this happen? Who could have done this?" 

_Oh shit, he doesn't know!_ Jim shrugged, hating himself for what he was going to do. "I haven't exactly been celibate, Blair. There are people who know about me, people who should have been discrete, but weren't. There were a lot of other names on that list too." 

"Who?" 

Jim looked at him blankly. "You know, I have no idea. I guess they just didn't register." 

Blair squeezed his knee gently. "I wish I could do something to make it all better, but I can't. I can't even make *me* better, let alone you." 

A knock at the door drew Jim's attention, and he got up to answer it. Michael pushed his way through and wrapped his arms around Jim. "I was worried about you, Jamie. How are you holding up?" 

Jim glanced back at Blair. "Better now that I'm not alone," he said. 

Michael looked up and, seeing Blair, let Jim go. "Blair," he said, offering what he hoped wasn't a condescending smile. "How are *you* doing?" 

"I'm fine," he answered shortly. 

Michael walked over to the couch. "I'm serious," he said softly. "Jim isn't the only one hit by this." 

The genuine concern in his voice relaxed him, a little. "I'm no worse than I was yesterday, for what it's worth." 

Michael recognized that for the non-answer that it was, but didn't push. "I called here as soon as I saw the paper; Gregory was in it, too." 

Jim was clearly startled. Gregory *was* a prominent Cascade lawyer but it hadn't occurred to him until now that of course he'd be in there if anyone knew about it. "Oh, man, I didn't even think... I'm sorry." 

"It's all right; he has nothing to hide. He runs his own firm and there are very few clients that didn't know already. He was just worried about me, but I told him I could handle myself. It was you two I was worried about, what with, you know, everything else that was happening around here." 

Jim nodded and went back to sit on the couch with Blair, putting an arm around his shoulders. "Is this all right?" 

Blair looked at Michael, then nodded. 

"Yeah, it's all right." 

Jim squeezed his shoulder with one hand. "Thank you." He gave Blair a secret, shared smile then turned back to Michael. "So what do you know about the group that did this? 

"Not much," he admitted. "Gregory's working on it right now. I just want to know what they were thinking? Outing people *scares* more closeted gays than it helps. They just never think about who they might be hurting." He shook his head, his expression full of fury and hurt, even though he tried to make his voice reassuring. 

"I've seen it happen," said Jim. "I just never thought..." He let his voice trail off, the full weight of what had happened beginning to press on him. It was bad enough to him; for Blair, it must be devastating, even though he hadn't been named. Yet he'd never denied their relationship. If that wasn't strength, he didn't know what was. 

"Neither did we. It's...it's really fucking low, that's what it is." He clenched his fists by his sides and tried to keep his cool. "I just came by to make sure that you were all right," he said. "Are you?" 

Blair and Jim looked at one another. "I'm not sure," said Jim. "I just don't want to deal with it right now." 

"Then don't," said Michael. "Don't let them ruin your relationship along with everything else. As a matter of fact, don't let them ruin *anything*." 

"I don't plan to," said Jim. "Are those reporters still camped outside?" 

Michael rolled his eyes. "Yes. They're *all* coming out of the woodwork today. Take my advice--anything you need to do, do it from in here. Otherwise they can get things out of you you *never* intended to give." 

"I wasn't planning on going anywhere." 

"All right," said Michael. "I'm out of here. Give me a call if you need anything, all right? And I *mean* that. Both of you." 

"Thanks," said Blair quietly. 

"Yeah," repeated Jim. "Thanks." 

"Anytime." He closed the door behind him with a soft click, and Jim listened to him descend. 

"What *are* we going to do?" asked Blair, shivering a little though it wasn't cold. 

He tried to look confident when he answered. "We go on. What else *can* we do? God." He rubbed his forehead. "I never intended to come out. Oh sure, to a few people, when I was ready. When *we* were ready. That choice was taken away from me." 

"From us, Jim." 

"It was taken away from us. I'm just thankful there still *is* an us." 

"Jim...even if I had gone to stay with Rob and Ryan tonight, it wouldn't have meant that I was leaving you. It just meant...that I wasn't ready. I'm *not* ready. God, Jim, I'm not *ready*. I've only been with you for a week and *this* happens." 

"Whoa, whoa, easy, Blair." Jim held him closer. "It's going to be okay." 

"Easily said, Jim," he replied, holding his body still but not pulling away. 

Jim kissed the top of Blair's head. "Let's forget about it for a little while. The phone is off, the door is locked, and there's nowhere I have to be until tomorrow. This might be our last day with any degree of normalcy to it." 

"I think that was yesterday." 

Jim nodded slowly. "I'm sorry." 

"It's not your fault, I know that. God, I can't even go somewhere to clear my head. I can't even leave this apartment!" 

Jim ran a hand over his hair and stood up, pacing the floor in front of the couch. "I need to get out of here, too," he said, thinking. Then he grabbed Blair's hand and pulled him out of the apartment. 

"Jim, what the hell are you doing?" 

"Shhhhhh." Jim pulled him along to the end of the hall, and up the back stairs to the roof. "We'll be alone up here," he said with a smile. 

Once Blair realized where they were headed, he almost beat Jim up there. 

"Tell me you left your cell phone behind." 

"I left *everything* behind...except you." 

Blair immediately claimed the lone seat, and Jim sat on the roof next to him, not releasing his hand. "I feel like I'm going crazy here." 

"It'll all settle down eventually," said Blair tentatively. "These things always do." 

"They only seem like they do. My life is changed now, for good." 

"Our life, Jim." 

"Our life," he repeated, almost apologetically. "When we started to get together--when everything started between us--I never expected that I would put you through this. I never imagined that it could happen." 

"Who does? Who *ever* imagines that their life is going to be turned upside down?" Jim knew that Blair was talking about a lot more than the outing. A *whole* lot more. 

"How much of my journal did you read?" he asked. 

Blair thought about it. "About half, I think." He smiled a little sheepishly. "I wanted to read all of it, but I was just dead tired." 

"I didn't *expect* you to read it all," said Jim with surprise. "I thought you'd get about a quarter of the way through and decide to ditch it forever." 

"Come on," said Blair, closing his eyes and leaning back in the chair wearily. "I've always wanted to know all about you. And you know what? *That* part of my inquiry was never about the dissertation at all." 

He was speechless. "I...I never really thought about that." 

"Yeah, Jim, I really *needed* your ATM number to write about Sentinels." 

He actually chuckled a little. "No, you needed it to pick up dinner on the way home. What, you didn't think I'd notice or something?" He released Blair's hand and threw his arm around his shoulders. "Blair...we need to talk about this. Seriously and rationally." 

"Not yet." 

"Then when? This has happened, Blair. There isn't anything we can do about that now." 

"Jim, just stop. Please. I can't deal with this. I wasn't exaggerating when I said that. I. Can't. Deal. With. This. Yes, I know that it has happened and that it is over with now, and we have to deal with it or go under. Just give me some time. And hour, a day, whatever you can spare me. Then I'll try--but give me that time. Please." 

"What do you need, Blair?" 

"What do I *need*? I don't know. I guess I can't ask you to just sit there, huh." 

"Just sit here and hold you? I could do that." 

"That's not what I meant. I'm just...you know how I usually have to catch up to my brain?" Jim grinned knowingly. "Well, my brain wants to just be with you--the rest of me is a little more nervous." 

Jim squeezed his shoulder. "Let me know when the two come to some sort of decision, all right?" 

Blair turned to Jim and kissed him tenderly. 

"I guess screaming my head off isn't an option right now. Damn it's bright out here. Is it lunchtime yet? Can I take a nap?" 

"Huh?" 

Blair kissed him again. "My mind is swirling, and it just won't stop." 

"You're not the only one. I just...I'm trying Blair, and I can't stop thinking about it." 

Blair closed his eyes again and took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. 

"This is just...I don't think it's hit yet. Hell, I'm still working on what was going on *before* all of this. You know what?" 

"What?" 

"I was going to sleep with you tonight. I really wanted it, to be there in your arms all night. Peacefully. I guess there isn't going to be any peace around here for a while." He sighed. "Now I don't know what I want to do." 

"What do you mean? Has all of this...has it changed what you feel for me?" 

"No! No, that's not what I meant. I just meant...that it would be different now. That it wouldn't happen the way it does in my mind. You won't fall asleep holding me; you'll toss and turn and worry all night." 

Jim shook his head. "No, I wouldn't. Hell, by dinnertime I'll probably be so stressed out that I'll pass out for the night. I promise you, if I can, I'll make everything the way you want it to be." 

"Jim, you can't and you know it. But....well, we'll see what happens, all right?" 

He looked at his watch. "God. It's eleven. *A.M.*." He let his head rest in his hand. "I don't think there's ever been a day this long before." 

"Jim, about that journal..." 

Jim looked up at the mention. "What about it, Chief?" 

"There's something I wanted to...no, now's not the time." 

Jim nodded slowly. "I think I know what you're getting at," he said. "It's okay...I'm okay with all that now. It was a long time ago; you can ask if you want." 

"How did it...I mean, you only wrote that one line. I must've read it ten times, trying to figure out what had happened. I just couldn't imagine it." 

"How did it happen?" prompted Jim, sighing. "It just...it wasn't a good time in my life. No, that's an understatement--it was a very bad time. I didn't have anyone to talk to about what I was feeling, and my home life left a lot to be desired. Dad was ragging on us pretty badly then, both Stephen and I. My grades were slipping, I was letting everything go...." 

He tried not to tense up, but the memory was still painful, even after all this time. 

"My dad kept a gun collection, in his den. It was easy to just go in there and take one of them and...I guess you know the rest. I chickened out at the last second...the bullet just grazed my skull. I didn't try again." 

"God, Jim. I don't know what to say." 

"Just tell me that you're dealing with this better than that." 

Blair choked out a surprised laugh. "God, yes. I mean...I'm having a hard time with this, Jim, but even I know that eventually it'll be okay. I have you, and I have friends, and I have a life to fall back on. Just hearing that..." 

"I didn't show that journal to you to hurt you--" started Jim. 

"You didn't hurt me." 

"I didn't show it to you to get sympathy either." 

"I know." 

"Blair...I've never told anyone about that before. No one." 

"Yeah, I know that too." 

"I told you because..." 

"Why, Jim? I want to know. I really do." The look in Blair's eyes was absolutely sincere. 

"I don't know if I should say this..." 

Blair didn't have to coax it out, all it took was a look. 

"Blair, you're the only person that I've trusted in a very long time and I value that more highly than anything. I love you, and I *don't* say that easily. I want to be with you, no matter what. You're the one. Period." 

Blair was silent for a moment. "Wow," he said. "I...that's...wow." 

"I was right...I shouldn't have said anything." 

"No, you should have. And you did. Jim...I guess everything's sort of...our emotions are running so damn high. We're all saying things and doing things that we might not have otherwise. And it's not a bad thing, you know?" 

"It's a bad thing if it scares you away." 

"I'm not scared." 

"I'm...glad." Jim sighed, realizing how much he had just put on the line. 

"Everything changes now," said Blair quietly. "Everything. My life. Your life. Everyone we know and everything we do. Me." 

"Admit it, Blair. You're never going to change." 

Blair smiled. "Let's go back in before they start flying choppers over us trying to get some pics, man. I've had my taste of fresh air now, and I am not on display." 

Jim's face fell. "I never meant for you to be involved in this. I never expected any of it." 

"No, Jim, listen. I've been thinking about this. Really thinking. If you meant to get involved with me, then you meant to get me involved. You just never knew what getting me involved would be. Don't feel bad. If it wasn't what I wanted, then I could pack my things and move out this afternoon. I'm not going to do that." 

"Thank you," whispered Jim. "Thank God," he added, so quietly Blair couldn't hear. 

It was Blair who led the way off their rooftop hideaway and back into the loft, taking Jim by the hand. It felt nice to be holding Jim's hand in his, to feel its roughness and its warmth. To know that this was someone who would never let him down. He could never rely on any of his girlfriends that much, and that was what was making all of this a little easier than it might have been. 

"I have some stuff I need to do today," admitted Blair once they were back inside. "I couldn't just take off for the day without any repercussions." 

Jim was actually relieved that Blair had something to be doing, and suddenly remembered the files that he, himself, had put together to bring home with him right before that fateful little declaration. 

"That's okay," he said, kissing Blair's cheek. "I have stuff to do, too." As he watched Blair duck into his bedroom, he prayed to his God, and every other, that they would somehow get through this day intact. 

<><><><><><><><><><> 

Jim woke up with a kink in his neck and his face smushed at an odd angle against a counterfeiting case file. 

His brain-fog dissipated enough for him to realize that it was still daylight--he glanced at the clock and saw that it was after six. _Must've been more stressed than I realized,_ he thought, stretching a little in his seat and feeling his joints pop. 

Blair peeked out of his room at the first sounds of Jim waking. As the cop roused further, he noticed a soft wool blanket on the floor, one that his roommate must have lain over him. He turned to Blair and smiled. 

"Hi," he said, a little sleepily. 

"How are you doing?" Blair's voice was soft, as though he was still trying to wake him. 

"I don't know," said Jim honestly, as his mind went into instant replay of their day. "Guess it feels a little better now. How about you?" 

"I got a lot done this afternoon," he said. "I actually think I'm caught up with notes for my class. Even got a couple of articles read." 

"Well, um, that's great." 

"And...I took down all the answering machine messages." 

"You did?" 

"Yeah...why didn't you tell me they were that bad?" 

"Blair?" Jim was instantly up off the couch and walking towards his partner. "What do you mean 'bad'?" 

"I deleted them, I didn't want you to have to listen to them. Just...hate, man. Just hate." 

"Shit." 

"You think we should get a new number? Unlisted?" 

"That might not be a bad idea," he admitted. "I'll do it first thing in the morning. No reason to put up with this any longer than we have to. Anything important?" 

"Simon called...he wants you to call him at home." 

"At home?" confirmed Jim. 

"Yeah. At home." 

Jim shrugged. "I'll get to it later. Probably wants to know if I managed to make any headway on these cases. Or wants to tell me I don't have a job." 

Blair shook his head. "No way, man. Simon would fight for you tooth and nail--you're the best man he's got." 

"You didn't see him today." 

"I didn't have to," persisted Blair. 

Jim didn't push. "Guess it's the cases, then." 

"You know, Jim, maybe he just wants to talk." 

"I repeat--you didn't see him today. I'm the last person he wants to chat with. Anything else?" 

"Call Carolyn," said Blair immediately. "The rest of 'em are written down." 

"All right." Hesitating only a moment, he took Blair into his arms and held him tight. "Blair...God, I need you so much right now. Can we do this?" 

"Yes," said Blair, which was almost the last thing that Jim had been expecting to hear. "Yes, we can. About time you started talking about 'we'." 

"We? But I always think about our partnership..." 

"Not that kind of we, Jim. As in, you're finally thinking about this as a situation that affects us, not you or me. I lied before--I didn't get any work done this afternoon, hardly. I just sat there and watched you and thought about everything." 

"And?" 

Blair took a deep breath. "And I'm bisexual. Okay, fine, lots of people are, I can deal with that. *Have* been dealing with that. And now I'm bisexual and out. Okay, not something I was ready for, but something that I can deal with. Eventually. But this whole sensationalism, media circus deal. That's our problem. That's the thing that I can't control and deal with." 

"So you're okay with being with me?" 

"Oh, Jim. I've always been okay with being with you. It hasn't been easy for me to accept this about myself, but I never left. Every single moment I've been here, I've been making the decision to stick with you." 

"I love you," said Jim, kissing him passionately. 

"Yeah," whispered Blair. "It's been a long day." Jim pulled away for a moment and seemed to be staring off into space. "Jim? ... Jim, what are you thinking?" 

"I was just...a week ago, you didn't even know. You didn't even *know*!" 

Blair started chuckling. Moments later, he was in hysterics. Jim looked at him like he was crazy for a moment, then broke down and started laughing too. They kept it up for a good fifteen minutes, before collapsing on the floor, exhausted. Blair rolled over, almost on top of Jim, and kissed him lightly. 

"I don't care if it's only seven," whispered Jim. "Please, Blair, come to bed with me." 

"Take me." 

Jim took him at his word, picking Blair up off the floor and carrying him up the stairs, refusing to grunt even though Blair was heavier than he looked. Blair's face was buried in his lover's neck, nibbling at the exposed flesh; Jim barely made it up the stairs. He set Blair down carefully and lay next to him, pulling the covers up over the both of them, still clothed. They next couple of hours were filled with kisses and nuzzles and awkward gropes, until Jim insistently tried to pull Blair's shirt up to expose his skin. 

"Jim," whispered Blair, pushing him away slightly. "Not that, not yet. Please?" 

Jim's took what he could get, kissing Blair's neck again holding him close. "All right," he said. "Rest, love. Tomorrow's another day." 

<><><><><><><><><><> 

Jim woke still surprised to find Blair in his arms, but it wasn't just that Blair was there, it was that he was awake and doing things that Jim had never expected to wake and find him doing. 

"Blair?" he mumbled sleepily, feeling his shirt being pulled out of the waistband of his jeans and pushed up his chest. 

"Don't...don't do anything Jim," said Blair softly. "Just let me...I want to touch you, just a little. I want to feel what it's like." 

"I don't mind." He shifted a little so that his partner could pull the shirt up and over his head. Blair's fingers danced over the hard planes of Jim's chest, tracing his pecs and his collarbones and the line that ran from his neck right down his torso to his waist. Jim closed his eyes and tried not to want more than he could have. The early morning light was just peeking through the curtains on his window--only a couple hours for him to decide what he would be doing with his day, and he wanted to spend that entire time in bed with Blair. Forgetting. 

Blair's lips began to follow his hands, tracing around the edges of Jim's neck then down to capture one nipple, suckling on it tenderly. Jim let a moan escape his lips, the feelings that were coursing through his body so familiar yet so new. This was Blair. As though he could hear Jim thinking his name, Blair looked up and then wrapped his arms around him, resting his head on Jim's chest. "I'm sorry--I shouldn't start anything I'm not ready to finish." 

Jim just reached out and ran a hand repeatedly through his lover's lush hair, reveling in the texture of it. It felt so right to him to have Blair there--he could only hope that his roommate would feel that way soon, too. It just wasn't fair, that they should be so close to having what they wanted and have it almost ruined by some ex-lover with a grudge and an agenda. 

"That's okay," he said softly, exercising every ounce of his self- control. "We have plenty of time." 

Blair kissed Jim's lips sweetly, just once, then got up out of the bed. 

"Blair?" 

"I'm gonna make breakfast," he said in explanation. "I've got to make breakfast for us today, okay?" 

Jim nodded, breathing deeply. "I understand," he said sincerely. "I'll be downstairs soon. I love you." 

Blair turned back at the sound of that and smiled. "I love you, too." 

Jim sat down to a meal of scrambled eggs, bacon, juice, coffee, toast, and any number of condiments. It was extravagant, and it was what was keeping Blair sane. 

"I think I'm going to head in early," he said to him, more to make conversation than to give Blair any new information. 

"Yeah?" 

"It'll be easier to, you know, already be there when people start to straggle in. I didn't get anything done yesterday; I need to get cracking before I give them a *reason* to take my job." 

"Yeah, I know what you mean," agreed Blair casually. "I'm going to head into my office this morning, try and get some stuff caught up. I know I was supposed to go in to the station today..." 

"That's not such a good idea right now." 

"I couldn't even do it if you begged me, Jim. I'm sorry...it's gonna be hard enough just going in to the university." 

Jim nodded, gulping back his juice. "I know, honey." 

"Honey?" repeated Blair. 

Jim almost--almost--blushed. "Sorry. Slipped." 

"Jim...when did you first, you know, start to tell people? Who was the first person you told?" 

Jim had almost gotten used to those little questions, seemingly coming out of nowhere. No matter how he answered them, the questions said more about Blair's state of mind then the answers did about his. 

"A friend," he said. He hesitated before going on with the rest of the answer. "A friend who proceeded to beat the crap out of me." He shrugged off the memories that surrounded that. "I thought I'd written about that in my journal; maybe I didn't. Well, I guess you can see why." 

"Did anything *good* happen to you in high school?" 

Jim smiled. "Jonathan. Jonathan happened." 

"Ah. I haven't gotten to that part yet." 

"I know." 

Jim finished off the meal and got up to go. 

"Do you need help cleaning this all up?" 

"Nah, you go ahead. I can handle this. See you at dinnertime?" 

"I'll be counting the minutes," said Jim and the words weren't even romantic, they were desperate. He took his jacket off the hook and, with a single look back, left the apartment. 

<><><><><><><><><><> 

The drive to the station was the single longest thing Jim had ever endured, yet it wasn't long enough. He pulled into the garage and had to take three long, deep breaths before he even had the nerve to get out of the truck. The place wasn't busy, not yet, but it wasn't deserted either. "Mr. Ellison! Mr. Ellison!" Jim spotted the reporters coming his way before they had a chance to intercept him and ducked into the building quickly, foregoing the elevator and taking the stairs two at a time up to Major Crime. 

He was careful not to look anyone in the eye as he made his way to his desk and sat down, laying down his files in a neat pile. He stared at them unseeingly for a moment, then picked up the phone instead of trying to get anything done. Besides the other hundred- and-one other calls that he had to return at some point, he still had to get ahold of Carolyn. Flicking his eyes at the clock, he knew that she would already be at her station and working. Probably had been there for an hour already. 

The officers that were already in the bullpen were, for the most part, studiously ignoring him. Jim did the same to them. 

"Carolyn Plummer, how can I help you?" 

"Carolyn? 

"Jim!" 

"You called?" 

"I called more than once, Jimmy. What's going on there?" 

"It's kinda crazy here right now, Caro. Sorry I didn't call you back, I just wanted to crawl into bed and hide for a week." 

"I get the Cascade papers here, Jimmy. I called as soon as I saw. Do you know who...?" 

"It was David." 

Carolyn used a few curses Jim didn't even know she knew. "I told you he was no good, Jimmy. I *told* you--" 

"Don't." Jim interrupted her. "Just don't, Caro. I don't need to hear that right now. It doesn't matter; what's done is done." 

"I've got some time off coming to me if you need me there..." she offered. 

"I'm coping." 

"I just wanted you to know there was *someone* on your side, Jimmy. And I'll stand down any cop who says you can't do you job now." 

Jim smiled. "I know you would." 

"I wanted to make sure you hadn't gone and done something stupid, too. How's that kid you live with taking the news? Or is he even still around?" 

"Blair isn't a kid." 

"I stand corrected. How's Blair?" 

"Blair's all right. We're both doing okay, but there are reporters just *crawling* all over the place. Makes everything a little weird." He hoped she wouldn't push him to actually answer the question, hoped she knew him well enough to know when something was too sensitive or complicated to get into. 

"It'll die down," she assured him. "You'll call if you need anything?" 

"I will, Caro. I just...I need to deal with this. I need to get everything back to normal around here." 

"Uh huh...talk to you in, oh, a year?" 

He chuckled a little. "I'll call you tomorrow, all right? Don't you dare come up here. You come up here and we'll get in a fight and that'll just be one more thing to deal with. And you know it." 

"You take care of yourself, Jimmy." 

"Always do." 

Jim hung up the phone with a mild feeling of regret; talking to Carolyn had just delayed his having to deal with his immediate surroundings, with being back at the station. He resisted the strong temptation to listen in on the whispered conversation that was coming from another corner of the room. It might be about him, it might not, but what good would it do him to know? 

To keep his mind off of everything, he opened the first file. Right on top was a note from Blair. "Dear Jim, I know it's gonna be a bad day. I'm freaked too, it's okay. I love you. B." 

Jim smiled. 

"Ellison!" He looked up to see Simon bearing down on him. "You were supposed to call me." 

"I'm sorry, sir. I turned my phone off." 

"You didn't check the messages?" 

"Blair checked them." 

"And he didn't tell you I'd called?" 

Jim sighed. "I didn't want to talk to anyone last night." 

"Well you damn well better be ready to talk to someone now." 

"Does this have anything to do with my job, sir?" 

Simon ran a hand over his face. "No. This has to do with you and me, Jim. My office, now." 

Jim stood up. "I'll take that as a request, not an order," he said, and followed Simon into the room stiffly, ignoring the blatant curiosity on the face of every detective in the bullpen. 

"Sit down." 

"Is that an order?" 

"No, that is *not* an order. Now sit down." 

Jim sat. "Look, Simon, I've had a really long day and a really long night. I can't leave my apartment, I can't even answer my *phone* anymore. What is it that you needed to see me so urgently about?" 

"I never said it was urgent." 

"Simon, if you pull a baseball bat out from behind that desk, so help me God I will *not* be responsible for what I do to you." 

"Don't be an idiot, Jim." 

Jim didn't respond. 

"I wanted to do this last night, not now, not here." 

"What is it we're doing here?" 

"Look, I want you on my team, Jim. You're a damn good cop and this is where you belong. But I'm having a hard time wrapping my mind around this. I just wanted to *talk*, to *understand*. I'm the person that everyone comes to when they want answers, Jim, and I need to have answers to give them." 

"What kind of answers are you expecting, Simon? What more can I tell you? It's all out there now. All we have to do now is just *deal* with it. I'm not leaving this job, Simon--I'll fight tooth and nail for it." 

"All I want is to talk. I spent most of yesterday thinking about this, you know. We were friends before...I want to know if we still can be." 

"Well, not if you keep making stupid comments like that." 

"All I want is to *understand*." 

"I can't *make* you understand," said Jim. "I don't know what you're asking. Are you asking why I like guys? Are you asking why I wanted to be a cop? Are you asking why I showed up to work yesterday?" 

"You just never struck me as the...*type*, Jim. Have you *always* been...this way?" 

"This way?" he shot back, gesturing wildly. "You mean tall?" He tried to keep the frustration out of his voice, but it was a losing battle from the start 

"I'm making an effort here," he growled. 

"Can't you just...why is there something to understand here? Okay, I know, stupid question. Yes, I've always been this way, if by 'this way' you mean bisexual. But what does that change, Simon?" 

"It changes...everything!" 

"God, you sound just like Sandburg." 

"You mean he just found out too?!" 

Jim looked like he wasn't going to answer that for a moment, wondering if how he answered that single question would determine how his and Simon's friendship fared. 

"I told Blair about a week ago," he said finally, and didn't elaborate. 

"A week ago," repeated Simon. "You just sort of...told him? Just felt like telling *him*, who you've known for less than two years and not *me* who you've known for over five?" 

"You don't live with me, sir." 

"Yeah, well, thank God for that." 

"What's *that* supposed to mean?" 

"Nothing." 

"You know what? I don't think I want to be here anymore. If you'll excuse me..." 

"Sit down, Jim." 

"Why should I? You call me in here and you *say* you want to understand and then you...and then you *insult* me. I don't have to take this, from you or from anybody." 

"No, I don't suppose you do, do you." 

"No, I don't." Jim didn't make another motion to leave, yet. 

"You're into *guys*, Jim?" said Simon finally. "How could I not have known this?" 

"How exactly did you expect to know, Simon? Did you expect me to come in one day wearing a dress? What? *What* were you expecting to notice?" 

"I don't *know*. Something. Jim, you were married..." 

"Do you need me to define bisexual for you, sir?" 

"No, no, no. All I'm trying to do here is..." 

Jim sighed. "I know what you're trying to do, Simon. You're trying to understand and get comfortable with this so it'll be easier to work with me. You're just doing a piss-poor job of it." 

"Well, I'm *sorry*." 

"You ought to be. This was never anyone's business. It doesn't *matter*. It doesn't matter one bit. But now that everyone knows, suddenly there's something to deal with. Like I've changed or something." Jim shook his head. "Do you know how frustrating this is for me?" 

"No." 

"Well, it is." 

"I'll be frank here, Jim. I've never been interested in men. I just don't *get* that part of it. It's not that I think any less of you, I just don't grasp it." 

"If that's what it is, Simon, then I don't know what to tell you." Jim shrugged. "I like women. I like men. No big deal...or at least it shouldn't be. Now, unless there's something else, I have work to do." Jim got up to leave again. 

"Just...one more thing." 

"What?" 

"You said that you weren't with Sandburg. Can I quote you on that?" 

Jim paused. "What I said, was that I wasn't sleeping with him." 

"There's a difference?" 

Jim debated again just what to say. On the one hand, Blair had told him that he wasn't denying it. On the other, this was the station and not the university. If he'd had a third hand, he would have counted the fact that this was Simon and, despite everything, Simon was his friend. 

"Blair and I are seeing one another," he said finally. "Now I'm telling you that off the record, because you *are* my friend. We haven't been seeing one another long, and we aren't having sex. Will there be anything else?" 

"You...are?" 

Jim nodded his confirmation. "Will there be anything else, sir?" 

Simon shook his head, the shock of Jim's statement still on his face. Yesterday had been quite enough, today was too much. 

"I'll...talk to you later." 

"Very good, sir." Jim left the office. 

<><><><><><><><><><> 

The bullpen was significantly more crowded than when Jim had gone *in* to the office. Silence fell upon the room again, but he'd been expecting it this time. It was why he'd wanted to be here early, so that he wouldn't be making some kind of an entrance. He looked around and, instead of leaving like yesterday, sat down at his desk. 

He was surprised when, a moment later, Brown came walking over to him. Preparing for the worst, he steeled his nerves and looked up at him. Brown didn't look threatening at all. "You, uh, dropped this yesterday," he said, handing over a piece of paper. 

"Thanks," said Jim, reluctant to reach out to take the paper. When he did, though, Brown didn't flinch. 

"I'm, uh, sorry about...you know, yesterday," he said awkwardly. "It was just a bit of a shock, you know?" 

Jim simply nodded, still feeling more than a little uncharitable. 

"Was there anything else?" 

Henri looked like he was going to walk away, but then turned back to him. Before Jim could stop him, Brown reached out and picked up Blair's note. After reading it, he actually smiled. "I kinda thought you might be together," he said. 

"Um, since when?" 

"Just since...after what happened yesterday," said Henri quickly. "I mean, before that, no *way* I'd ever picture you with a guy." He handed the note back. "You might want to hide this. Some of the guys, they wouldn't like it. You know what I'm saying?" 

"Yeah, I know," said Jim. 

"Well I'll, uh, talk to you later. We've still got to get together and go over those surveillance tapes." 

"I'll see if I can't book us a time," said Jim. "I'll let you know." 

"Yeah, uh, thanks." Henri backed away, then turned and went back to the desk he shared with Rafe. No one else approached Jim as he folded the note up lovingly and tucked it into a pocket, then went back to his files. 

Under Simon's stern eye, Jim didn't suffer any harassment that morning. Neither was he included in the usual camaraderie of the Major Crimes bullpen, and when he went to lunch, it was alone. Henri looked like he wanted to invite him, but his partner took one look at Jim and pulled Brown out of there before he could. 

<><><><><><><><><><> 

The short alley outside the back door was dark as Blair stepped into it, shutting the door firmly behind him. He looked up towards the sky and frowned for a moment before turning towards the street. 

"Hey, faggot." 

Blair froze. 

"Trying to sneak out, are you?" The man made an abrupt, vicious noise. "People like you don't *deserve* a way out!" 

There wasn't just one set of footsteps behind him, there were two. Too late, he tried to run. The large hand grabbed his hair, jerking his head backwards painfully. "Faggot," the voice growled in his ear. "You know you deserve this." He clutched his victim's hair tighter until Blair could almost feel the hairs pulling away from his scalp. 

He couldn't say a word, especially after the first blow caught him in the stomach. His instinct was to double over, but he couldn't move and was forced to just stand there as more blows rained down on him. He yelled when once he managed to catch half a breath, and immediately had a rough hand clamped over his mouth. He couldn't breathe, and his eyes grew wide as panic began to set in. His struggles began in earnest, but were futile against the two, much larger, men. The last thing he saw before his consciousness faded was the glint of a switchblade descending towards him. 

<><><><><><><><><><> 

Simon hadn't been able to stand in his doorway all day, fending off hostility towards his star detective, so when Jim came back from a quiet lunch at a nearby deli, it was to a real shocker. Everything on his desk had been swept onto the floor, and spray painted--spray- painted!--on the top and sides of the desk were the words "Get AIDS and die, fag!" 

He took a few calming breaths, then walked right past his desk and let himself into his captain's office. Simon wasn't there, so Jim just picked up the phone and called station security. 

"Hello, I need copies of the security tapes for Major Crime, 7th floor, delivered to Captain Simon Banks. ASAP, please, there's been an...incident." He hung up the phone with a shaking hand and collapsed in the chair of Simon's desk. 

He knew he couldn't stay in there, but neither could he deal with going back out into the bullpen. Especially since everyone was acting like there was nothing wrong. _It's no big deal!_ his mind was screaming. _Being bi is not a big deal!!_ But he knew that was the only way to convince everyone that *he* didn't think it was a big deal. It would have been so different if he'd been able to come out on his own terms, but that was never going to happen now. 

He had to do this. He *had* to. Walking out of the office--and wishing more than anything that he at least had Blair there to support him--he starting picking up his things off the floor. A few minutes later, Simon walked in and tapped him on the shoulder. "What?" Jim didn't even look up to see who it was, he knew. 

"Jim, take the rest of the day off." 

"Simon, no, I'm going to stick this out." 

"That wasn't a request, Jim, it was an order." 

Jim stood up. "Why?" 

"Where have you been for the last hour?" 

"Lunch," he said, exasperated. 

"Lunch where?" 

"I went to Sam's Deli. What's going on, Simon?" 

"Did anyone see you there?" 

"Yes...no...it was crowded. What the hell is this all about?" 

Simon sighed. "Earlier today we got some information on the group that planted that article in the paper. Half an hour ago, one of them turned up dead. What do you know about that, Jim?" 

"Dead?! Simon, I don't know *anything* about it. Am I a *suspect*?" 

Simon nodded. "You were on the list, Jim, and after what happened to Blair this morning, well..." 

"*What* happened to Blair this morning?" growled Jim anxiously. 

Simon looked surprised. "You mean you didn't get the message?" 

Jim grabbed Simon's shirt angrily, then took a couple more deep breaths and let go, clenching his fists by his sides and trying not to shout in his panic. 

"Simon, what are you talking about? What happened to Blair?" 

"Jim, I have to relieve you of duty until we get to the bottom of this." 

"Forget about that! What happened?" 

"Someone named Ryan called the station. There was an...incident ...outside your apartment when Blair left this morning. They were supposed to relay the message to you..." 

"Well, we all know how damn efficient they're going to be around here when it comes to me," said Jim angrily, slamming a pile of papers back down on his desk. "How long ago did you *know* this?" 

"About 10 - Jim, are you listening to me? You're under suspicion for *murder* here." 

"I've got to call Ryan, I've got to find out what happened. Simon, I had nothing to do with any murder, and if you'll let me I'll do my damnedest to find out *who* did it. Can I use your phone?" 

"Jim..." Simon sighed. "Like I could stop you. Go ahead." 

As Jim ducked back into the office, Simon looked at the remains of Jim's workstation in disbelief. "Brown, Rafe," he barked out. "Clean this mess up. And call supply, tell them we're going to need a new desk up here. Now!" 

Brown was quick to respond, Rafe less so, and for a brief moment he seemed to look at the mess with a twinge of self-satisfaction. 

Simon quietly entered his office after Jim, in time to see him hanging up the phone. He raised an eyebrow in query and was relieved to see Jim had calmed down considerably. 

"He was sleeping; Ryan says he's okay." 

"I'm glad." 

"So I'm a suspect am I?" 

"One of many, Jim, but people here have seen you, they know how upset you got over this. You're at the top of a few lists. I'm sorry." 

"Am I officially relieved of duty?" 

"I'm not asking for your gun and shield, Jim. I'm just telling you to get out of here. The longer you stay here, the more trouble we can get into. They can say you're interfering with the investigation." 

Jim nodded angrily. "Speaking of investigations," he said. "I already requisitioned the surveillance tapes. I want to know who did this, and I want justice. This is a hate crime, Simon." 

"I know. I'll take care of it. You have to go, Jim." 

"I'm going," he said. "Make sure my cases aren't forgotten, all right? This is just bullshit. You know where to get ahold of me." 

"I'll call you later." 

The detective left the office again and snatched up a couple of things off the floor before leaving the station, wondering when he was ever going to work a full day again. 

<><><><><><><><><><> 

Jim didn't know the way to Ryan's house, and hated himself for that. He sat in his truck in the precinct parking garage and just gripped the wheel, resting his head against it tensely. Wherever Blair was, he was safe, but he also wasn't with Jim, and that was killing the detective. Next thing to out of a job, suspected of *murder*, and no one to come home to. Could this day--this life--get any worse? Lifting his head, he managed to get the truck started and pulled out of the station. No sense sticking around there, not when something else could be sprung upon him. Home, then. Home to a loft without Blair. He had Ryan's number--the moment he got home he was going to be calling it again. It was all he could do. 

He left black streaks pulling into the parking lot and racing out of the truck and up the stairs, trying to get safely into his apartment and away from prying eyes. It felt like they were everywhere now, cameras pointing out of every nook and cranny. Who would have thought his love life would be of such interest to the general public? Scandal was always a big sell. 

He stopped dead in the hallway outside his apartment when he saw a streak of blood on the door handle. He couldn't even bring himself to touch it for a moment. _Blair!_ Finally he reached out and opened the door, pushing it inward hesitantly. He already knew that the apartment was empty. Not only could he not hear anyone, but he could just *feel* it. 

He dropped his things inside and closed the door, trying to direct his eyes away from the little spots of blood leading to Blair's room, then to the bathroom. He knew that Blair was okay--Blair *was* okay- -but this was doing nothing to reassure him. The phone was sitting on the table, probably where Blair had left it. Carefully, Jim took a paper towel and wiped it clean, then called Ryan's number. 

"Hi, is Blair up?" he said immediately with no niceties, no preamble. 

Ryan covered the phone with his hand and quietly asked Rob if Blair was around. The answer wasn't verbal, and Jim puzzled over what might be going on over there. 

"Yeah, he's up," said Ryan finally. 

"Well, can I talk to him?" 

"I don't know if that's such a good idea." 

Jim fell heavily into a kitchen chair. "What do you *mean* you don't think that's such a good idea?" 

"Think about it. Blair was just starting to deal with his feelings for you, and then suddenly you were together. Then he was just starting to deal with you being together and suddenly you were out. Then he didn't even have a chance to start dealing with you being out, and he was bashed. He was *bashed*, Jim. Give him a little time away, will you?" 

"Did Blair say he didn't want to talk to me?" 

Ryan covered the phone again, and asked Blair if he wanted to talk to him. He didn't sound happy about it. 

"Jim?" He was instantly relieved to hear Blair's voice. 

"Blair, are you all right?" 

"Jim, where have you been?" 

Jim groaned. "Blair, they never gave me the message; I just found out. Please...are you all right? What happened?" 

"I tried calling your phone, but it just...made these weird noises." 

"The precinct cut it off...I got dozens of calls from people last night. And then...well, that isn't important right now. Blair...?" 

"I'm okay, Jim. Ryan came and got me and took care of it." 

"I would have done that." 

"Jim...." Inwardly he winced, anticipating what Blair was going to say. "I just need a little space right now. I need to get *away* from it all. I know I agreed to come home, but that was before... It's only for a couple of days, Jim. Really." 

"Blair...God, you've got timing. I'm at home right now--" 

"At home? Why?" interrupted Blair 

"It's, uh, a long story. Can I come over there and tell it to you?" 

"Ryan says that's not a good idea--" 

"Oh *fuck* Blair, since when do you listen to anyone else?" His partner was silent. "I'm sorry. Things just...they got even worse. Okay?" 

Blair snorted. "Worse? Things can actually get *worse*?" 

Jim took a deep breath. "I'm under suspicion for murder." Blair was silent again. "Blair?" 

"I'm at 1288 Sixteenth. Be here in ten minutes." 

Jim actually smiled. "I'm on my way." 

He looked at the clock for a moment, then quickly went into the bathroom and got a towel. Meticulously, he cleaned up all the blood on the floor and the bathroom before throwing the towel away and grabbing his keys. After another moment's thought, he called a cab to meet him two blocks away and slipped down the fire escape outside Blair's room. 

He pounded on the door when he got there; Ryan answered it a moment later. 

"Not so hard, Ellison, we heard you just fine." Jim pushed the door open wider and stepped right inside. 

"Blair?" 

"I'm right here, Jim." He stepped out of the den, and Jim got his first look. 

"Oh, Christ, Blair, are you all right?" 

"He's fine," said Ryan, but it wasn't his reassurance that Jim wanted. 

Blair's eye was swollen and already turning a purplish shade. Jim could see the edge of a white bandage from under his sleeve and instinctively knew that was where the blood must have come from. "I really am all right, Jim," said Blair. "Ryan took me to the doctor and he stitched up the cut." He lowered his voice to a sub-whisper. "Don't be too hard on him, he's just worried about me." 

"Blair, hon, go sit down again," said Ryan. "You know what the doctor said." 

Blair shook his head. "No, I'm feeling okay, Ry. Jim, tell me what's going on..." 

Ryan placed his hand lightly against Jim's back. 

"You come too. He really does need to sit down." 

As they moved into the den, Jim launched into his story. 

"They came up with the name of the group that planted the news story..." 

"Yeah, and?" 

"And one of them turned up dead." 

"Good," said Ryan, although there was no conviction behind it. 

"Yeah, but they can't possibly think that *you*..." 

Jim shrugged. "I don't have an alibi," he said. "But to be honest, if Simon really thought it was me, I don't think I would have walked out of that station." 

"But you're still not working." 

"I've been 'temporarily relieved of duty'," he said. "Blair..." He tentatively reached out to touch the bruise on his lover's face. "What happened?" 

Blair looked at Ryan, who stood up. "Well, guess this calls for a bit of privacy," he said quickly. "Blair, luv, if you need anything I'll be in the kitchen making lunch. Jim, is soup and sandwiches all right?" 

Jim nodded absently. "Blair?" 

"I, uh...I was leaving for the university," he said. "I stepped out the back way and...and there was someone there...I didn't even see them...and one had a knife..." Blair pulled up his sleeve carefully and peeled back the layer of gauze. Jim counted sixteen stitches. 

"They knocked me on the head pretty hard, bashed my face..." Jim heard Blair's heart and respiration rates skyrocketing and lay a hand on his other arm to help calm him. "They *hated* me...and they didn't even know me." Blair covered his arm back up. "Someone walked by and they ran...I made it back up to the apartment and called you. Then I called Ryan." 

"And even when Ryan called, they never gave me the message," muttered Jim angrily. He reached out and took Blair into his arms. "Thank god you're all right." 

"Yeah," said Blair. "Whatever. I called the university, and they're covering this week." 

Jim held him at arm's length and looked him over cautiously. 

"Is there anything...else? 

Blair shook his head sharply. "No, just a couple of bruises. Really, I'm all right, Jim. Just...well, a little shaken up." He took a deep breath. "I want to stay here, just for a little while. Not because Ryan wants me to, just...just until everything dies down a little." 

Jim nodded. "You're scared...I understand." 

"It's not that I don't want to be with you..." 

"I know." Jim's voice was solemn, and he couldn't look at him. 

"Shit, Jim..." With his good arm, Blair grabbed Jim's shirt and pulled him towards him, kissing him deeply, frantically. "If that doesn't convince you, I don't know what will." 

Jim smiled and kissed him again. "I believe you. It's just hard, Blair." Blair snickered involuntarily, and his partner groaned. "I didn't mean it *that* way!" They laughed, and the sound did more for Jim's spirits than anything else had in a long time. 

"Lunch!" called Ryan from the kitchen. 

Jim looked at his love. "I already ate lunch...but I didn't have much of an appetite then. Coming?" 

"Yeah. Um...you wanna give me a hand getting up?" 

Jim helped Blair get to his feet, concern all over his face. 

"Just a bruise on my side," he explained. 

Jim refused to let go of his hand as they moved into the kitchen, and Ryan smiled seeing them together. 

"You done good for yourself, Blair," he said, looking more at Jim's expression than his physique. He was clearly in love with Blair, of that there was no room for doubt. Ryan's demeanor towards the cop softened a little. 

He pulled out a chair for Blair, then tugged Jim back into the hallway. 

"What? What do you want *now*?" 

"I'm sorry," said Ryan. "You know we both only want what's best for Blair. I want you to understand that." 

"What's happening...it's not my fault..." said Jim. "You seem like you're blaming me." 

Ryan shook his head. "I'm not blaming you. I'm blaming those idiots who are staking out your place, and the idiots that outed you, and all the idiots that still subscribe to stereotypes. But regardless of who I blame, your place is not a safe place right now. I'm sorry, sweetie, but it's the truth. I want Blair here, and safe, and that's the end of it." 

"Isn't that Blair's decision to make?" 

Ryan nodded. "I asked him, Jim. I think you already know what he said." 

Jim sighed. "Better here than a lot of places," he admitted. "I just...I want him with me." 

"Jim, you're welcome to stay here...at least, until they catch up to you..." 

Jim thought about it, but shook his head in the negative. 

"They aren't going to chase me from my home," he said with determination. 

"Your choice, hon." Ryan shrugged. "Just wanted to make sure we both knew where the other was coming from. Now come eat, you look like hell." 

"Jim," said Blair when they came back into the kitchen. "Maybe you should stay away for a while, too. I don't like the idea of you being there alone." 

"There are still a couple of people I trust," said Jim. "I can call them up, see if they can't keep an eye on things. I can't leave, though. If I leave, they win. Maybe Michael can stay, just for a little while..." 

"Michael?" Blair asked in a small voice. 

"He's a big cop, people don't mess with him. And he's in the middle of this too." 

Blair nodded. "Maybe you're right." He enticed Jim to the table waving a sandwich in front of him. "But I'm keeping you here for a while now that I've got you. Just because I'm not going back there, doesn't mean I don't want to be--" 

"Blair, love, I *know* that," said Jim, sitting down next to him and taking his hand back again. "Do what you need to do, all right?" 

"That's all I *can* do," said Blair, taking back his hand reluctantly to eat. 

Absently, Jim broke off a piece of his sandwich and fed it to Blair. 

"I want everything to be okay," he said. "I don't know how to do that." 

"You can't," said Blair. "I didn't want to believe that...but no one can just fix this. We have to work at it." He sighed. "Give me two days, and I'll come home, okay?" 

Jim looked grateful for the effort. "You don't need to give yourself deadlines. It'll work out." 

"All right, hon," said Ryan to Jim. "What're we going to do about this whole murder thing?" 

Jim looked at him, startled. "We?" 

He shrugged. "Well you are here, in my home, and I want this mess cleaned up. You're not all that safe now to begin with. I may not know you well, but I know you're no murderer." 

Jim was thankful and suspicious at once. "I can't do anything. I have to leave this one in Simon's hands and hope that our friendship still means enough to him that he'll get a thorough job done. At least until I'm back on the force. They can't keep me out long, not without good reason." 

"You can fight it, right?" said Blair. 

"I will, if it goes on more than a couple of days. Right now...it's almost a blessing." Visions of his desecrated desk flashed through Jim's mind--that was one thing he *wouldn't* be sharing with Blair. "I need to get some things in order." 

"Jim," said Blair quietly. "Your work's your life." 

"And no one can make me stop doing it," said Jim. "I don't need to be there to be on this case." 

"Don't go getting yourself hurt, luv," said Ryan. "That would *seriously* piss me off." 

"Yeah, me too," said Blair. "One of us is bad enough." 

"Ryan, can I make some calls from here?" asked Jim when he finished eating. "There are a number of people I need to get ahold of." 

"Like who?" Blair toyed with his soup and hardly ate anything. 

"Like Simon," said Jim. "I think he's on my side...sort of. I wish I knew." 

Ryan watched Jim tense up again and tapped him on the arm. 

"I've got some old dishes in the basement you can go smash if you need to." 

Jim snorted. "I don't think that will be necessary. Your phone is where?" 

"You can use the one in the bedroom if you want privacy. Second door." 

"Thanks. You'll be all right?" he asked Blair. 

"As much as I ever am." Jim didn't quite know how to take that, but he didn't ask. 

"Okay, then," said Jim, patting his good arm. "You know where to find me," 

"I know," said Blair faintly. Jim almost didn't want to go, but being next to Blair was feeling awkward. He wouldn't be that far away; nothing was going to happen to either one of them. 

Jim found the phone easily enough. He'd been expecting the guest bedroom; this one belonged to Ryan and Rob. He resisted the urge to poke around in their things and immediately dialed the number for Simon's office. He couldn't stop his eyes from scanning the room, though, as the phone rang. He wasn't sure what he was expecting to see...maybe some evidence that two men lived here together in some sort of domestic bliss. He'd had that once, but even the memories of that were getting tainted now. 

"Hello?" 

Jim was a bit startled as Simon answered the phone 

"Simon," he said. 

"Oh, it's you, Jim. I just called the loft, but there was no answer. Where are you?" 

"I'm with Blair...I'm with friends. I needed a little support right now, and I didn't have anywhere else to get it. Did you check out the surveillance tapes?" 

"Yeah," said Simon, and Jim heard a heavy sigh. "Do you want to hear it now, or in person?" 

"Now." 

"All right, then. It was Buccini." 

"Buccini? From Vice?" 

"I wondered if you knew him..." 

"Yeah, we worked a couple of cases together, used to go out for drinks." Jim's voice was flat, as though even this couldn't touch him anymore. 

"I don't even care about him, you know," said Simon. "What I care about is...that Rafe and Hyde sat there while he did it and didn't say a word." 

"Oh," said Jim, his heart sinking. "I'm not sure I wanted to hear that. Is anything going to be done?" 

"I'll do the best I can, Jim. That's all I can tell you." 

"What they did was a *crime* and I want justice." 

"What kind of justice, Jim?" 

The detective held his temper in check. "The kind that the law gives, sir. No more, no less." 

"Good. I can nail Buccini, no problem. As for Rafe and Hyde...I don't know. They're my men, Jim." 

"So am I. Or at least I thought I was." 

"I said I'll do what I can." 

"That's all I ask, sir. What about the, um, other case?" 

"No leads yet; forensics is still at the scene. You're still a suspect, at least officially. I'm sorry." 

"No big surprise there. Has *anyone* been eliminated yet?" Simon was silent. "Simon?" 

"Just one." 

"Simon?" 

"We've had a report of a suicide, Jim. I'm sorry." 

Jim shook his head sadly, not just because someone else had died because of this whole mess, but because he wasn't even surprised by the fact. 

"So am I, Simon. Who was it?" 

"We can't release that information yet," he said. "I'll...I'll keep you informed Jim." 

"I'm sure you will," said Jim, sounding just a little patronizing. 

"I mean it," he said. 

"I'm sorry if I find that just a little hard to believe right now," said Jim. "You can reach me on my cell phone; I'll leave it on." 

"I'll call later then," said Simon. "As soon as I find out something." 

"I guess I'll talk to you later," said Jim. 

"Goodbye." 

Hanging up the phone, he just sat there for a moment, not quite sure what to do next. 

"Jim?" He looked up and saw Blair standing in the doorway of the room, watching him. "Everything okay?" Jim opened his mouth to say yes, but the word "no" came out. Blair walked over, cradling his arm, and gave Jim a hug. "What did Simon say?" 

"Nothing, really," he replied. "Nothing. Finished lunch?" 

"Yeah...and I thought maybe we could spend a little, you know, time together, before you have to go. I'm sorry about everything. I don't know what to do." 

"Stop it, love. Stop apologizing. Just...sit down?" 

Blair sat down next to him, one arm sneaking around Jim's waist. 

"This still feels just a little weird you know. Nice...but weird." Jim put his own arm around his lover's shoulders and didn't answer, just held him and was thankful that, even after all of this, Blair was still there with him. 

"How do you really feel, about me staying here?" 

Jim was ready to give Blair a quick answer, but thought better of it. Blair deserved a little thought, at the very least. 

"Relieved," he said finally. "I'll miss having you with me, but it's worth it knowing that you aren't going to be hurt again. I know that I'm responsible for what happened--" 

"You aren't to blame for being who you are any more than I'm responsible for being who *I* am," interrupted Blair. "The only person responsible for this is the person who held the knife." 

Jim was disturbed by the matter-of-fact way that Blair said that, until he looked into his partner's eyes. Blair was just barely holding it together. 

"You're right," he said, hoping it was the right thing to say. 

Blair didn't do anything, but Jim could feel his shoulders trembling. "If you wanted to, you know, cry...that's fine," he said tentatively. Blair just shook his head. 

"I don't want to cry, Jim. I'm mad, and I'm frustrated and confused... I don't know what I want right now." 

"Do you want me?" 

"I...yeah, I think so," said Blair. "I could be a thousand miles away right now, but I'm not." Turning his head, he kissed Jim's throat gently. "It's just so fast and so much." 

"Yeah, I know." 

"I'm tired," said Blair quietly. "I'm gonna lie down for a while." 

"Good. I love you." Blair kissed him again, this time on the lips. 

"I'll leave you to your calls," he said, standing up again. "I'm in the room across the hall. You know, if you need anything." 

"Thank you." 

A few moments after he left, Jim picked up the phone again and dialed. 

"Hello?" 

"Hi, Michael. It's, uh, me." 

"Jim! Is something wrong? What's happened?" 

"Too much," said Jim with a sigh. "I just...wanted someone to talk to. You got time?" 

"Yeah." Jim heard the sounds of shuffling papers in the background. "I'll take a break right now." Then there were sounds of Michael walking somewhere quieter. "How's it going, man?" 

"I don't know. I think I'm actually getting used to this whole 'out' business. Guess you know what happened at the station, huh." 

"Which part? The part about the vandalism? Or the part about the murder?" 

"I'll take that as a yes." 

"Everyone knows damn well you aren't responsible for that murder, Jim. It's an excuse to get you outta there for a while. Don't worry about it one bit; it'll be cleared up soon." 

"Yeah, that was pretty much my take on it, but it doesn't feel good." 

"No doubt. As for that vandalism...me and a couple of other guys have taken it upon ourselves to make sure they get their due." 

Jim smiled. "You're a good friend," he said. 

"Don't you forget it when it comes time for *me* to call in a favor," said Michael, laughing just a little. 

"You've got it, man." 

"So now that we've got business out of the way, what's *really* on your mind?" 

"Blair." 

"Well, jeez, I should have guessed that one, huh." 

"Oh, probably. He was, um...attacked today." 

"What? Is he all right? Where is he?" 

"He's here, with me. He's all right...I guess. Shaken up, cut up, bruised up. Nothing that won't heal, at least physically." 

"And emotionally?" 

"Well, I think we *both* need some work right now. I'm at a friend's place right now, a friend of Blair's." Jim lay back wearily on the bed, holding the phone against his ear. "When exactly did I lose control of my life?" 

"You haven't, Jamie. Do *not* let this win. There are a lot of us still here for you." 

"Yeah, and a lot of people who aren't. The guy that turned the other way when they trashed my desk? That was my *friend*, someone I trusted. Do you know what that did to me?" 

"Yeah, I do," said Michael. "Not that that helps you any. You remember what it was like for me, when I came out to my mother? We were still together then." 

Jim winced at the memory. The one and only time he'd ever seen the other man cry, and the only time he ever expected to. He'd stayed with him that whole night, not even worrying about what he was going to tell Blair. It had been a bad time. 

"I remember," he said simply. 

"People surprise you...and it isn't always good." 

"I always knew that," said Jim. "I've been through some serious shit before. But this is just so...so..." 

"So personal, Jamie. It's so personal. Like they've ripped out your heart and your soul and are dangling it in front of everyone like so much bait. It *sucks*. I *know* it does." 

"Great. Just great. Now that I'm thinking clearly, I realize that my life is a total wreck. I think I liked it better when everything was a blur." 

"Now wait a second here. Let's just put everything in perspective. What happened? You were outed. What does that mean? That you're out. Okay, so what's the big deal. Hundreds of people do it every day." 

"The big *deal*," said Jim, "is that I wasn't ready. It wasn't my decision. And I'm a *cop*--this doesn't just mean I might not be first in line for a promotion anymore. This is life and death. And it makes me look like I wasn't honest, which isn't true. Then there's Blair--" 

"Whoa, easy," said Michael soothingly. "Let's just take those one at a time. You weren't ready. Is anyone?" 

"I had just started *thinking* about it..." he began. 

"That puts you one up on a lot of the people on that list," pointed out Michael. "And if you were starting to think about it, then surely you had already mulled over the consequences of being an out cop. I *know* that you did." 

"And you know that I decided being all the way out at the station was a bad idea. Now it's an even worse idea." 

"I think you're at the point where you realize there's nothing you can do about it. It's done. Stop worrying about it and start dealing with it. You think people are uncomfortable with you now? Then *talk* to them about it. Yeah, I know, you shouldn't have to, but that's life, pal. A lot of people just don't understand, and if you can *make* them understand then it's a lot easier, on both of you. You follow?" 

"I don't like it." 

"You don't have to. You just have to do it." 

"You know, you can be a real jerk sometimes." 

"But an honest jerk. Isn't that what you liked about me in the first place?" 

"Yeah, something like that." 

"So that takes care of your first few concerns. Then there's Blair." 

Jim sighed. "Yes, Blair. Man, this has been harder on him than anyone, and I can't do anything to make it better." 

"No, you can't. Except to recognize that he *is* a lot less ready to deal with it than you. The kid's holding up a lot better than most people would have. Just a week ago you were worried that he couldn't deal with being bi--he's clearly stronger than you took him for." 

"Hey, Mike, quit making me feel like a pedophile. Blair is no kid." 

"Okay, so he's not a kid. He's still younger than me. Maybe it's the whole student thing. Doesn't matter; he's still doing well. Give him some time--you can't deal with this for him. How many times am I gonna have to tell you that?" 

"Oh, probably at least a few more," admitted Jim. "So what should I do now?" 

"You," said Michael, "need to get back to work." 

"No can do. Not until I get my name cleared, you know that." 

"That probably won't even take hours, let alone days. Get back into that office, Jim. Get back on your cases. Start picking up the pieces." 

"Guess I'm gonna have to try." 

"Atta boy, Jamie." 

"But right now...I think I want to go lie down with Blair. I need to touch him, Mike..." 

"You should. I'll see you later, Jim. First time I see you at the station, I'm gonna come on up and treat you to a nice big cup of coffee and a danish, all right?" 

"And if I catch you calling me Jamie, you're dead meat." 

Michael was laughing as he hung up the phone. 

<><><><><><><><><><> 

Jim crept across the hall and spent a few moments just watching his lover sleep. He looked so awkward, still fully dressed, still cradling his arm. Carefully, Jim began peeling his clothes off, first his socks, then his loose overshirt, then his jeans. He didn't let himself think about the bruising until *after* his task was done. 

"Oh, Blair," he whispered, tracing the outline of a darkening bruise with his fingertip. Blair whimpered in his sleep and tried to move, but couldn't find a more comfortable position. "I'm so sorry. For everything." As he stripped his own clothing off and crawled into the bed, he kept talking. "I can't help thinking that if I hadn't fallen for you, this never would have happened. And I *know* that isn't true, but I can't help thinking it." He kissed the back of Blair's head gently, then smoothed his hair down. 

"I have to keep telling myself that you aren't a child. That you can make your own decisions. When I look at you, I do see a man, a grown man that I desire very much, but when I think about people hurting you, I want to wrap you in cotton and hide you away. I don't want to let you make mistakes. I don't want you to go through the pain of coming out so soon after you realized it yourself... And I know there's not a damn thing I can do about it. I'm sorry." 

He continued to caress Blair's hair with one hand as he began to fall asleep himself, the other arm hanging loosely over his waist. When Blair tenderly took Jim's hand into his own, Jim was too far gone to even notice. 

He awoke about an hour later to Ryan shaking his shoulder. 

"Jim?" he called softly, though it was easily loud enough to wake him. "Jim?" 

Jim shifted a little and opened his eyes, Blair still curled up in his arms. 

"I'm up," he said. "What is it?" 

"Your cell phone was ringing, so I answered it. Your Captain wants you to call him back as soon as possible." Jim sat up as quickly as he could without waking his partner and took his phone out of Ryan's outstretched hand. "It sounded important, so I woke you right away." 

"Thank you," said Jim, already dialing the number for Simon's office. "Did he say anything else?" Ryan shook his head, slipping out of the room to give him some privacy. Jim nodded, but it was to himself as the door softly clicked shut. 

"Hello, Simon." he said as the phone was picked up. 

"Jim! There's been another murder, same MO--single bullet to the head. You're off the hook; your friend already says he'll vouch for your whereabouts. How soon can you be back here?" 

Jim sighed. "As soon as I get dressed and drive there. What's going on?" 

"Besides the fact that your vacation is over? I can't assign this case to you--you know that--but if you're here, I know you'll keep a close eye on it. Make sure the job gets done right. This whole situation is just leaving a bad taste in my mouth, Jim, and I want someone I trust here. Can you do that?" 

"You know I will." He knew that if someone else had been in charge, he wouldn't have been off for a day--he would have been relieved of duty until the whole case was solved--and he was grateful to Simon for having that kind of faith in him despite what had transpired between them. 

"I'm having Brown pass all the information onto you, Jim. Do you trust him to?" 

"Yes," he responded after a moment of thought. 

"Good. This is strictly under the table, Jim. As long as we're all clear on that." 

"I hear you, sir." 

"Good. Then I'll see you here within the hour?" 

"You will," he said, then heard Simon hang up the phone. He disconnected from his own end and just sat there, cradling Blair, until he worked up the energy to quietly slip out of from under the covers and put his clothes on. Blair moaned softly as he deserted the bed, but quickly sprawled to cover the warm space that Jim left and was once again sleeping soundly. 

Jim met Ryan in the kitchen, who looked at him expectantly. 

"There's been another murder," said Jim. 

"So you're cleared?" 

"Yes." 

Ryan nodded, satisfied. "Are you on the case?" 

"Not officially." 

"Are you on the case?" he repeated. 

"Yes." 

Ryan nodded again as the detective walked past him to slip on his shoes and his jacket. 

"Take care of Blair," said Jim. "Let him know where I am. I'll call him later." 

"I will." 

"Thank you," he said, and left the house. 

<><><><><><><><><><> 

Jim stepped into the elevator with more confidence than he had for the past two days. There was simply nothing left to be done that could hurt him--everything was already out there. There could be no more surprises lurking for him. Anything that they tried to do to him now would pale in comparison with what had already been done. With that in mind, he was able to ignore all the looks, the gasps and the outright sneers that were directed towards him as he walked through the bullpen to Simon's office. 

Knocking at the door, he heard Simon's and Henri's voices from inside before the door was opened. 

"Jim, you're here." Simon glanced at his watch. "That didn't take long. Sit down." Jim sat and was handed a file. "The name of the first victim was John Harding. He was one of the most active members of a group called the Queer Liberation Front, a militant group. The article in the paper has been traced to them. He was shot in his home, once in the head. Pretty cold." 

Jim followed along in his copy of the file, his face expressionless. Simon paused for a moment, then went on. 

"The second victim's name was Leon Hart. Same MO, same location. Reports are still coming in on him; it just happened about an hour ago." 

"Same organization. Do we have a membership list?" 

"Only the executive," piped up Brown, handing Jim a marked up piece of paper. "I don't supposed you know any of them...?" 

As soon as Jim looked at the page, David's name jumped out at him. He wasn't surprised. 

"Yeah, actually I do." There were six names on the list, and two of them were already dead. 

Brown didn't look too surprised either. 

"We have no way of knowing who else is in the organization, and no way of getting ahold of any of these men. Rafe is working on getting phone numbers, addresses, anything." 

"Yeah, and I'm sure he's working *real* hard at it, too," muttered Jim darkly before returning to the list. "David McGuinness," he said, tapping the page and raising his voice a little. "I think I'll be able to get ahold of him. He's in Cascade; I'm pretty sure I know where he's staying. Or at least know someone who does." 

"Get on it, then." 

"I want a list of the remaining suspects." Simon snorted and tossed the previous day's newspaper in Jim's lap. "I'm serious. Have any of these people been looked into? Questioned?" He looked from one man to the other. "Anyone?" 

"Ellison, there are forty-seven names on that list. We've eliminated three. I've gotten through questioning a half-dozen people, but I've got nothing." Brown looked frustrated. 

"Well, we can't just rely on this fucking list," he said. "What about forensic evidence? What have we got?" 

"No witnesses," said Brown. "No murder weapon. There was no forced entry, so for whatever reason he was let in. We dusted for prints, but there weren't any to be found. Not until we find the murder weapon. All we can hope for is that a witness will come forward, someone who saw *something*." 

"And the second investigation might turn up something new," added Simon, picking up his suit jacket from the back of his chair. "I'm heading down to the lab. Jim...supply is sending you up a new desk. It isn't here yet. You can work in here for the time being. 

Jim nodded, still expressionless. "I'll see if I can get ahold of David. What all do you want from him?" 

"First of all we want to get him safe, then we want to get a *complete* list of their membership. I don't want to take any chances." 

"No, I suppose you don't." 

Simon looked at him, a little suspicious and concerned, but left the office anyway. Brown stayed a moment longer. 

"You're doing okay?" 

"I'm doing okay," confirmed Jim. 

"I'll be at my desk, then. I'll check in in a while." Jim nodded, already picking up Simon's phone. The other detective just glanced at him once more and left the office as well. 

He dialed the number from memory, then sat and waited, anxiously tapping his fingers against the table. 

"Hello?" 

"Hello...Hannah?" 

"Yes, who's this?" 

"Hannah, it's Jim. Jim Ellison." 

"Jim! Oh, my God, how *are* you?" 

"I'm...fine. Hannah, I need to get ahold of David." 

"David? Why? I was under the impression that, um..." 

"It's sort of official police business. He's not in trouble or anything," he hastily reassured her. "He may be in danger." _Yeah, from me._

"Oh my God! What's going on?" 

Jim sighed. "It's too long to get into right now, and I'm exhausted. I *promise* I'll call you later and catch you up. Right now, I need to find David." 

He could hear her nod. "He's living on Furby Street. Just a moment, I have the number and the address." She fumbled around in some papers for a moment, searching. "Here it is. 882 Furby, apartment 31. And the phone...555-0723." 

Jim grabbed a pen and wrote it all down. 

"Thanks, Hannah. I owe you big." 

"I'll accept dinner." 

"You're on...we've got a lot to talk about." 

"Bye, Jim." 

"Bye." 

He grabbed the piece of paper and, taking a deep breath, stepped out into the bullpen. 

"Brown, I've got something for you." Henri looked up, as did everyone else within earshot. Jim ignored them all and handed Henri the paper where he'd copied down the phone number. 

He looked at it and nodded. "You want to give him a call?" he asked. 

Jim shook his head. "I'd just as soon not." 

"Mind if I ask why?" 

_As a matter of fact I do._ "This is one of the men who has very nearly ruined my life," he said. "I don't want to talk to him if I have any choice in the matter." 

Brown looked startled for a moment, then *really* looked at Jim, as if seeing for the first time what bad shape his friend was in. 

"Thanks for the number," he said, picking up his phone and dialing. Jim turned and went straight back into Simon's office. 

Shutting the door, he slumped down in a chair and began reading the file, beginning to end. He needed to really know what they were dealing with here. No matter how much he hated David right now, he didn't want him dead. No one deserved that. Brown was right to be looking to the victims of the "outing" for the killer; now that there were two murders, the chances were highly against it being someone else. It was just too coincidental. If it wasn't one of them, then surely it was someone close to them. Other possibilities were just too remote to consider at this point. 

Jim didn't like to think that, though. It was hard to swallow the fact that someone in the same situation as him had gone and done this. Oh, the motive was painfully clear, but that didn't make him any more comfortable with it. 

His cell phone rang as he turned over the last page in the file. 

"Ellison." 

"Hey, Jamie, it's me. I'll make this quick. I got word that internal affairs is looking into your case, buddy." 

Jim smiled. "That's great news." 

"That's why I called you right away. You still with Blair?" 

"No, I'm back at the station," replied Jim. "There was another murder and I had an alibi this time." 

"Oh?" Michael sounded surprised. "I hadn't heard that yet." 

"I'm sure you will soon enough. Listen, are you and Gregory busy tonight?" 

"Greg's gone home to visit his parents for a couple of days--I couldn't get off work on such short notice. Why?" 

Jim sighed. "Blair's staying with friends, and I didn't want to spend the night at the loft alone. Blair would--I would--feel safer with someone else there." 

"I'll be there with beer, junk food and movies," promised Michael. "Anything else?" 

"No. And thanks." Jim heard a knock at the office door and, peeking through the blinds, saw Henri standing there. "Shit, I gotta go. I'll call you later." 

"Take care of yourself." 

"Bye." 

Jim put the phone back in his pocket and opened the door. By rights, Brown could have just walked in, but he hadn't. 

"Line two," he said without preamble. When Jim looked confused, he elaborated. "I've got David on the line, and he insists on talking to you." 

Jim stared at him for a moment, then nodded slowly, moving to the desk to pick up the phone. 

"Ellison," he said, trying to keep his voice even. 

There was silence on the other end of the line, then, "Jim?" 

"You wanted to talk to me?" Jim shifted his weight from one foot to the other and looked at Brown, still standing in the doorway, wishing he would leave. Brown looked back at him impassively and made no motion to go. 

"Jim...I want you to understand why I..." 

Jim cut him off abruptly. "I don't give a shit why you did it, Dave. It's done, and you can't take it back. Now what is it that you needed to talk to me about that you couldn't have done with Brown?" Henri crossed his arms over his chest and shut the door, with him on the inside. Jim looked at him and raised an eyebrow, but Henri didn't give away anything, just looked intent on listening to the conversation. 

"I just needed you to understand..." 

"I don't," said Jim shortly. "I'm never going to understand why you did what you did." 

There was dead silence for a few more moments. "I'm faxing our membership list to the station on the understanding that it is confidential and not to be released to anyone else. I'll be contacting the rest of the executive and letting them know the situation." David sounded weary. 

"Is that everything?" 

"Jim, have a little compassion. I've just lost friends..." 

"So have I," said Jim and hung up the phone. 

He and Brown looked at one another for a long while before anyone spoke. 

"Rafe is already waiting for the fax to come through." 

Jim nodded and there was silence again. 

"I wouldn't have minded some privacy," he said finally. 

"I'm sorry; we were monitoring the call," he said. "I didn't realize that it was going to be...personal." 

Jim rubbed the heel of his hand against his forehead. 

"How could it not be personal?" 

"That's not what I meant. How do you know him, Jim?" 

"Does it matter?" 

"No," said Henri. "No, I'm just asking." 

Jim sized him up briefly before answering. Brown had shown himself to be a friend, but not even friends could handle everything, all at once. 

"He was my lover for five years," he said expressionlessly. 

Henri nodded. "Was it a long time ago?" 

"Yeah, from when I was nineteen to when I was twenty-four." Jim resigned himself to the questioning but feeling kind of freed by it, too. "We've had a bit of a rocky friendship since then." 

"Clearly. But if he was your friend, then why did he...?" 

"I don't know," interrupted Jim. "Dammit, I don't know. There's no excuse for...I'm sorry. You don't need to be hearing this. That fax should be here by now." 

Henri nodded, and turned toward the door. 

"You're right, we can talk later." Before Jim could respond, he was out of the office. 

_That's been happening way too much lately. No chance to say my piece, to defend myself. No chance to settle down. Too many damn interruptions._ Jim slammed a few things down ineffectually, trying to relieve his frustration. It didn't work. _At least I'm working. At least I'm *here*. Let's not hope for too much more right now._

He peered between the slats of Simon's blinds and saw that his new desk was being carried in. In his absence, Rachel Phernambucq was helping them put it in place and return a few of his things to it. Resisting the urge to go out there and fix it himself, he sat back down and began fiddling compulsively with a pencil, tapping it against the folder and twirling it through his fingers. Finally, Brown came back in holding a sheet of paper in his hand. 

"There's only about a dozen people, but still... I wish we had some idea of who's next." 

"One of the executive," said Jim. "That's the only list that's even remotely public, and the other two victims were on it. That membership list, it's only for safety's sake." 

"I'm gonna make sure that everyone is contacted, let them know that they might be in danger and that they can request protection. Can't send police protection out to every one of them..." 

"Probably wouldn't do much good anyway." 

"Listen, buddy," Brown snapped at him. "You may have lost faith in a lot of people right now, but we aren't *all* like that, all right? I'm doing the best job I can on this case and so are a lot of other people." 

"I'm sorry," said Jim, without conviction. "Better get on it--there have been two murders already today. None of us want a third." 

Henri glanced at his watch and nodded. The first murder was at about 12:30, the second at 4:00. 

"I'm getting men on the rest of the executive." 

"Did David give you the addresses?" 

Henri nodded. "Reluctantly, but yes. Guess they never thought their media stunt would get so out of hand. Two of them live together, that'll save us some men." 

The door to the office opened and Simon stepped inside. 

"All right, I'm reclaiming my office, you two. Ellison, your desk's back, go set it up. You're back on the McLauchlin case, and I want to see some results before I let you go today. Get out of here." 

Jim glared at him for a moment and Simon was kind enough not to notice. Following Brown, he stepped out into the bullpen and stood by his desk. Stuff was piled on it and around it with no semblance of order whatsoever. _Clean the desk, or get something done on McLaughlin. Dammit, that trail is already cold, and I need a place to work._ Making a couple of calls to set a phone tap in motion, he began to sort things out and put them back where they had been. 

There hadn't been anything really important to him here. The pictures hadn't had any sentimental value, so it didn't matter that their glass was shattered. The only thing he valued that much was already lying, damaged, at a friend's house. Everything he had been working on was thankfully intact, though. He'd have to report to IA anything that was missing or destroyed, he was sure, and began making up a list of those things that he noticed. When he was done, it took up nearly the whole page. 

Glancing at the clock, he noticed that it was past six and people had been clearing out. He'd deliberately keep his senses toned down even more than he normally did. He wanted to know what was going on around him, but he wanted to escape it more. 

"What have you got for me?" 

"I got authorization to put a phone tap on McLaughlin's wife's line." Jim said, looking up at his captain. "If he gets ahold of her again, we're going to know it. Got anything for me?" 

Simon nodded. "The other four men are secure. Forensics is still going through the evidence gathered on the second case. If anything else comes up, Brown's gonna give you a call. Are you going to be at home tonight?" 

"Yes." 

"Good. Um, how's Blair?" 

"Bruised, battered, sixteen stitches from a knife wound." 

Simon winced. "I'm sorry." 

"Yeah, I'll bet you are," said Jim and held up a hand to keep Simon from responding. "Don't even say anything. I've put up with more shit in this one day than probably in the past three years. I'm not interested in pity, or apologies. See you in the morning, Captain." 

"Good night, Jim." 

Jim watched him walk back into his office, then grabbed his jacket and got ready to go. He paused a moment, then with a heavy sigh locked any important papers into his top drawer before leaving. 

<><><><><><><><><><> 

As he pulled up to the loft, he saw Michael's Escort screech into Blair's space across from his. Smiling, he locked up the truck and stepped towards him. Michael took him into his arms and held him tightly. "Let's get you inside, then you can tell me about your day." 

"Mr. Ellison, Mr. Ellison, we're with the Cascade Sun..." Jim groaned and tried to duck into the building, but it was too late; the reporters were already ahead of them. "Mr. Ellison, we just want to ask you a few questions. An article was recently run alleging that-- " 

"Mr. Ellison," came a voice from the other side. "Is this your lover?" 

Jim groaned and pushed his way through to the doorway, only turning back once it was open and he was standing just inside it. 

"No, this is not my lover. This is a friend. My *lover*, since you're so interested, is receiving medical attention because of a bashing he received outside *this* building this morning. Why the hell don't you do a story on *that*?" With that, he took Michael's elbow and led him upstairs to the loft. 

"Well, that was fun," said Michael mildly. 

"They're not going to go away until they get a story," said Jim. "They're leeches, feeding off the people, feeding off misery." 

"Hey, easy there. Surely today was better than yesterday. Right?" 

"I don't know." Jim let his shoes lie where he kicked them off and opened the fridge, looking for something to drink. "Did you bring beer?" 

"Naturally. Want to talk?" 

"Thought I already talked your ear off this afternoon. Did you bring movies?" 

"Yes, and a bucket of chicken." 

Jim had smelled that the moment Michael had pulled up. 

"Good, I'm hungry and lunch feels like it was a hundred years ago." Michael began unloading everything on the kitchen table. "No, in the living room, I want to be comfortable." 

His ex-lover looked from him to the bucket and back again, shaking his head. "You know, every bone in my body is screaming at me to take you up on that while I can, Jamie, but let's have a little structure here and at least get it onto plates before we go in there. When you're scrubbing off grease stains in the morning, I *know* who you're going to be blaming." 

Jim grinned at him and took a drumstick out of the bucket, biting into it. "Speaking of which, I'm going to call Blair now." He took the stairs up to his loft two at a time, still eating the chicken, then balanced the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he dialed. "Hey Ryan, can I talk to Blair?" 

There was no hesitation this time, no inquiry. The phone was just handed over. 

"Jim?" 

"Hey, Chief, how are you doing?" 

"I'm doing okay. I, uh, finally broke down and took one of those painkillers that the hospital sent home with me. It seemed to help." 

Jim winced. If Blair had actually been willing to take pain medication, it had to have been pretty bad. 

"Is everything going okay there?" 

"Except for the fact that you're not here, it's fine. You snuck out when I was sleeping." 

"Hey, I didn't sneak out! Simon called me back to work...there was another murder." 

"Yeah, Ryan told me." 

"I wanted you to sleep." 

"I needed it. I'm coming home tomorrow. Can you pick me up?" 

Jim finally had something to smile about. "Of course. What time?" 

"When you get off work. I'll be fine until then. Jim...what are you doing...?" 

Jim had been trying to quietly eat a bite of his chicken. He quickly chewed and swallowed. 

"Dinner," he said sheepishly. 

"Where *are* you?" 

"In my room." 

"You're eating dinner in your bedroom? Man, you *need* me there. I thought you said you weren't going to spend tonight alone..." 

"I'm not alone--Michael's downstairs. He's not you...but he's a good friend. I'm glad you're coming home." 

The conversation was strained, and neither one of them seemed to be able to do anything to relieve it. 

"Me too," said Blair. "I've been missing you. It's so weird...I used to be able to just go about my life. Spend hours away from you without a second thought. Why do I *need* so much now?" 

"I don't know," said Jim, "but I need you too. We're going to get through this; maybe we need to be together to do it. I just...I don't know. Is Ryan taking good care of you?" 

"Yeah," said Blair, chuckling a bit though his voice sounded thick with emotion. "Him and Rob are fussing over me like a kid. They don't want me to go yet." 

Jim could kick himself for what he was about to say, but knew it had to be asked. 

"Blair, are you sure about what you're doing? About coming home?" 

"Yeah, I am," he said. "I mean, there are things we need to talk about when I get home, but I want to be there. You know I just needed to get away, to put things in perspective." 

"I know." 

"Will you call me again, later tonight?" 

Jim smiled. "Of course, if you want me to." 

"Call me when Michael is sleeping, so we can talk some more." 

"Michael wouldn't mind if we talk now, really." Jim finished off the chicken and put the bones on a tissue on his night table, leaning back on the bed. 

"I know, but still. I'd be more comfortable if I could pretend we were alone. I miss you, Jim." 

"I love you too, Blair." 

"I'll talk to you later." 

"Good-bye. Until later." He listened until Blair hung up the phone, then replaced his own with a smile. It felt so good to hear Blair's voice, even though it had only been a few hours since he had last seen him, and to know that he was still all right. Blair was coming home. 

Still smiling, he went back down to Michael. 

"How's Blair doing?" 

"He's doing good; he'll be here tomorrow." 

"Hmm." 

Jim looked at him curiously. "What does *that* mean?" 

"Oh, nothing." 

"Mike, this is *me* you're talking to. Level with me." 

"Fine. Look, I *know* what Blair is going through right now and I *know* how he's feeling, but I just think...if I was him, I'd be here for you right now." He looked at his friend questioningly, waiting for his reaction. 

Jim rubbed his jaw and sat down across the table. "I'm not going to push him, Mike.. I want him here, but I'm not going to push him." 

"Jamie...maybe you *should*." 

Jim, who had been reaching for a beer, pulled his hand back. 

"You've got to be kidding." 

"Maybe he needs that little push to see just what he's putting you through. I don't think he *realizes*--" 

"If he doesn't realize, then he's not ready to deal with it. I'm serious here, Mike. Blair is a very caring and generous person. He's always looked out for me, even when it was annoying the hell out of me. If Blair says he can't be here, then he *can't be here* and that's the end of it." 

Michael nodded slowly. "All right, if that's how you feel about it." 

"It is," said Jim firmly, finally reaching for that beer again and popping the top off. "I know him, Mike. And I know what he's going through. So do you." 

He nodded again and started eating more of the chicken. It almost looked to Jim like he was using the food to stifle any comments he was thinking of making. It wasn't the first time, either. Jim sighed and looked at him tolerantly before realizing that what Mike was stopping himself from saying might not have anything to do with Blair. 

"How's everything going for you?" 

"What do you mean?" 

Jim sifted through the neglected pile of mail, dumped on a kitchen chair, and pulled out a fresh copy of the paper containing the offending article. 

"Gregory's in here, even if you're not. And I've been ignoring that; I'm sorry." 

Michael scratched his temple and looked away for a moment. "There's been no backlash at the station yet, and I'm really doubting there will be. I mean, I *am* out to a few people there. Of my own free will. And the people who don't know don't have any reason to connect me to Greg. Jamie, don't you think if I was having any problems I would have told you by now?" 

Jim shook his head. "Being the noble and self-sacrificing guy you are? No. Not with *that* martyr complex." 

"Martyr complex?" sputtered Michael before seeing Jim's spreading grin. When he did, he threatened to throw his piece of chicken at the other man. "My *point* is that I'm not having any problems. I'm not even getting any shit for being your friend. It may not feel much like it right now, but there *are* a lot of people on your side, or people who just don't care one way or the other." 

"Yeah," said Jim thoughtfully. "I'm really starting to see that. Once in a while." 

"You really don't want to talk about this right now, do you?" 

"I'm not sure I can talk about anything else right now," admitted Jim. "This has consumed my every conscious moment for the last two days, and probably a lot of my unconscious ones, too. How *does* a person think about anything else after that, let alone talk about it?" 

Michael shrugged. "You just do. Life goes on. You done eating?" 

"Yeah, for now." 

"Then let's watch a movie. And Jim?" 

"Yeah?" 

"If you *do* need to talk again, you know I'll listen." 

"I know." 

It was quiet as they watched, not uncomfortably, but companionably. As Jim became used to the fact that he was now out, to everyone, more of his thoughts began to be consumed by the murder case. There was no doubt that those other four men on the list were in danger, but it was a danger he could do nothing about, not being on the case. That didn't stop him from worrying; in fact, it concerned him even more. Not even David deserved a fate like that. 

David was a whole other issue. Jim couldn't think about him without a cold rage seeping through him, infusing every cell of his body. If he wasn't careful, making sure David got what was coming to him could become a single-minded obsession. _Didn't he give a single thought to the consequences of this? To my rights?_ The betrayal hit Jim hard, coming from someone he'd once trusted with everything he was. _I trusted you, David. I *trusted* you._

Jim felt a warm hand on his thigh. 

"Jamie?" 

"Uh huh?" 

"You looked pretty out of it." 

"Mmm. I was." Jim turned his head to look at his friend. "Did you want something?" 

Michael shook his head. "The movie's over," he pointed out. 

"Is it?" Jim stared at the screen, now showing the tag of some sitcom as the movie rewound. 

"You didn't watch a single part of it, did you," Michael accused him. 

"Guilty," admitted Jim. "I was thinking." 

"Just can't stop, can you." 

"Guess not," said Jim, not even sounding particularly bothered by it. 

The sitcom ended, and the evening news came on. Jim hardly even noticed, until they went into the lead story. 

"Our top story tonight is the brutal slaying of two Cascade activists involved in the gay rights movement--" 

"Turn it off." 

"--Police refuse to comment at this time--" 

Michael popped the tape in without Jim having to ask again. 

He was grateful that he wasn't home alone right now--even more grateful that he was with someone he trusted, someone he cared about. _Not Blair, but a friend,_ he thought to himself again, feeling comforted by it. 

When the second movie ended, Michael shut the television off. Jim yawned. 

"I think I'm going to call it a night," he said, standing up and heading for the stairs. He turned back to Michael for a moment when he was halfway up. "Thank you." 

What he saw in Michael's eyes surprised him. The other man was looking at the stairs up to Jim's loft, and then at Jim, with a visible longing. When he saw that Jim had noticed him, he looked away. 

"It's no trouble," he said. "Where do I find blankets for the couch?" 

"I...I'm going to get you some," said Jim, continuing up the stairs and not looking back. "I'll be down in a minute." When he got up to the top, he sat down on his bed for a moment. _We're friends; we can deal with this,/_ he told himself a few times, his head resting in his hands. He didn't allow himself the luxury, though, of agonizing over something so minor compared to everything else in his life right now. Unrequited emotions were the least of his worries, and Michael was a good enough friend not to let them get in the way. After a moment, he got up again and grabbed some extra blankets from his closet and went back downstairs to face his friend. 

They made up the couch without saying a word; when they were done Jim waited for Michael to say something. 

"Listen...you don't have to worry about me trying anything, Jamie. I love Gregory." Jim was still silent. "I was just thinking about, you know, what might have been. If things were different." 

"But they aren't." 

"No, they aren't," said Michael, smiling at Jim. The familiar friendship was back in his eyes, replacing the faraway, yearning look that had been there. "And I'm happy the way that things have turned out for us. I just couldn't help thinking." 

"Well, we all think," said Jim, hesitating briefly before giving him a hug. Michael held on to him tightly, caressing Jim's back. For a brief moment, a flare of their old feelings was there, but it faded quickly. 

"Have a good night," said Jim, releasing him. "I'll see you in the morning." 

<><><><><><><><><><> 

It was still early when Jim woke. A smile toyed at his lips as he anticipated Blair sneaking up to crawl into bed with him, then faded as he remembered that Blair wasn't here. There would be no warm snuggle this morning, no touching his lover in even the most chaste ways. No good morning kiss. No slow, lazy grope. No sense thinking about it. 

He rolled out of the bed wearily, as though there wasn't much point in getting up in the first place. Only because he knew that he *would* have something once he was through all this, was he able to go on with his day. Mornings were the worst, realizing all over again what was happening in his life. 

He heard a heartbeat, and knew instantly that it wasn't Blair's. He couldn't pinpoint why, it just wasn't right. It was Michael, still sleeping. Jim pulled on his robe and went downstairs to take a shower, flipping the coffee maker on as he went by. Michael stirred in his sleep, but didn't wake. 

As Jim lathered his body with soap, he closed his eyes and experimentally stroked his cock a few times. Nothing. It just hung limply between his muscled thighs, mute and unresponsive. Jim sighed and finished washing quickly, toweling off and throwing his robe back on so he could get some coffee. 

Michael was sitting up on the couch, trying to tame his hair with his fingers. Glancing at the clock, Jim saw it was only six in the morning. Still pretty early, which is why he was so surprised when the phone rang. 

"Hello?" 

Michael walked by him and, with a half-hearted wave, stepped into the bathroom. 

"Hello, Jim?" 

Jim heard the water start, heard Michael step into it. 

"David." It wasn't a greeting, just a statement of fact. 

"Jim, I hope I didn't get you up." 

"Would you have cared if you had?" 

"Jim, I'm scared." 

_Good._ Jim couldn't help but hear the sounds of Michael lathering his body, he was so used to tuning in to Blair's showers. 

"Why?" 

"These guys they've sent to guard me, I don't trust them." 

_And I should care because...?/_ "What do you want me to do about it?" 

Jim could even hear Michael breathing, short gasps of air as the steam rolled over him. Why did it sound familiar? 

"I'd feel safer with you here." 

_You shouldn't._ "Those men are trained to protect you." 

"I don't know them." 

"You don't know me either." 

The sounds were still reaching Jim despite his efforts to concentrate on the call. _What is he...oh no, he's not...?_

"I thought I did." 

"David, I don't want to be having this conversation with you at all, let alone at six a.m." 

"Jim, please, just come by. Something's wrong, I can tell." 

Jim sighed. "If I come by, will you leave me the hell alone?" 

"Yes." 

"Fine. I'll be there soon. Good-bye." Jim hung up the phone before David could say anything else. 

With nothing else to do but finish his coffee, he listened to the sounds of Michael climaxing in the shower, and prayed that his own name wasn't the one on Michael's lips. 

Going upstairs and dressing quickly, he left a note for Michael on the dining room table and put the spare key on top of it. The sooner he got this done, the better. 

<><><><><><><><><><> 

_This is a mistake. This is *such* a mistake._ That was all that ran through Jim's mind as he drove the streets, just beginning to fill with early-morning traffic. _If I do this, then he'll be out of my life._ The thought, while appealing, still left him feeling empty. There was a lot of history between him and David. History that couldn't just be erased in a couple of days no matter *what* the circumstances. 

He watched the addresses scroll by until he reached the one he was looking for. He needn't have been so diligent; there was a police cruiser in plain sight out front. Jim shut the truck off and hopped out with jerky motions, his anger rising up in him. The slam of the door was satisfying, but not enough to take down his fury even a notch. 

Boldly, he walked up to the front door and knocked. A uniformed officer answered. "Ellison," he said, nodding his head in recognition but not showing any other expression. 

After staring at one another for a moment, the officer stepped aside and let him in. Jim didn't trust himself to say anything; still he tried to show that his anger wasn't directed at the officer, but at the man he was protecting. 

"Jim!" 

Jim had been planning on steeling himself a few moments before he actually had to face David, but he wasn't given that chance as David burst into the foyer and gave Jim a bone-crunching hug. Reflexively and without thought, Jim shoved him off. David landed on his ass on the floor, confusion warring with outrage in his expression. 

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" 

David pulled himself to his feet. "I thought I was greeting an old friend." 

Jim shook his head furiously. "I can't believe you. You really think we're still friends? Still *anything*?" He held up a hand to keep David from answering. "I'm here to get you out of my life, once and for all. So tell me what you want from me." 

"Jim, I'm *scared*. Everyone's just so *angry*." 

"What did you *think* was going to happen? Huh? Did you expect people to come knocking on your door to *thank* you or something? I don't think you have *any* concept of what you've done." 

"No, Jim. No way. In fact, it's the other way around. *You* don't understand what it is we've accomplished." 

Jim's jaw was dangerously close to hanging open. "People are *dead*. Is *that* what you were going for? God, Dave, I am *so* close to hauling your ass in right now..." 

"Yeah, you go ahead and do that. And then you try and explain *why*." 

Jim's fists clenched along with his jaw as he tried to keep his cool. There were two other sets of eyes on him, watching for who knows what. He had a professional reputation to keep. And so he took a few long deep breaths and stepped past David into the kitchen, sitting down at the table without invitation and looking at everyone else expectantly. 

"Mr. McGuinness," said one of the officers--Jim hadn't taken the time to differentiate them beyond the fact that one of them was a blonde and the other a brunette and both he knew just in passing from the station. "We'll be in the living room should you need anything." 

"Yeah, yeah," said David, sitting down opposite Jim. "That'll be fine." 

Jim waited until the footsteps had stopped; it was just the room next to them, but they seemed to take their sweet time getting there. He was sure they could still hear everything that was being said, and was equally sure they wanted it that way. 

"What do you want?" asked Jim again, his voice tight. 

"I want to feel safe," he said. "And I want to know that you understand why what I did was the right thing." 

"What you did *wasn't* the right thing," hissed Jim. "Do you have any idea what I've gone through? What that has put me through? Do you have *any idea*?" 

"Whoa, whoa, easy, Jim. This is nothing to get so riled up over." Jim just shook, speechlessly. "Can you just imagine, for a second, what it would be like if every gay man and woman in this country--in this *world*--was out of the closet? Isn't it worth it to take a step towards that kind of freedom and acceptance?" 

"That was *my* right," growled Jim. "It was *my* right to choose who knew and how they were told. You took that away from me. You took that away from a lot of people and you had *no* right. You took advantage of the fact that you knew me, and you *betrayed* me. Do you realize that? You *betrayed* me!!" Jim hadn't realized he would find so much to say. 

"I helped you." 

"You *what*?" 

"I helped you. I did something for you that you couldn't do for yourself. You were too scared to come out, Jim, and now you don't have to make that decision. And seeing you, a cop, a *face* in this city, being out as a bisexual man...just think what it'll do for everyone else still out there, hiding." 

"*Helped* me? Oh, that's a laugh. If I was *ready* to be out, then I would have been. My life is *not* the business of the City of Cascade. Period. You know what this is really gonna do? It's gonna *scare* people. It's gonna scare a *lot* of people. Forget that naive idealism you're trying to thrive on and face a bit of reality, why don't you?" 

"We're trying to *change* the way things are. All you want to do is perpetuate them." 

"All I ever wanted to do was live my life!" 

David shook his head. "Remember when we met? Remember what it was like? We thought we could take on the world, Jimmy." 

"We were kids. And it's all right to make that decision for yourself. It's not all right to make it for someone else. It wasn't all right to make it for me, or for Gregory Kellman, or for anyone else. How am I gonna get this through that thick skull of yours?" 

"You're wrong. That's all I can say. You're wrong." 

"There's someone out there who wants to kill you, Dave. Well, there are a lot of someones who want to kill you right now, but there is one in particular who has a loaded gun and the balls to do it. Tell me again how you made his or her life better?" 

I'm not thinking in terms of one person or two people or even fifty people right now. I'm thinking about everyone." Jim was silent. "Do you understand me?" 

"I'm never going to agree." 

David got up from the table. "Never say never. Can I get you something to drink?" Jim shook his head, but David placed a beer in front of him anyway. "You look like you can use it." 

"I wonder why?" muttered Jim, but he did begin drinking it almost immediately regardless of the early hour. 

David watched him for a moment before speaking again. 

"I thought it would be easier for us, if you were out. If we didn't have anything to hide." 

"Excuse me, us?" 

"As friends, Jim. As two guys who might want to go out and do things together. Jim...I've been so out for so long...it was like you didn't even want to be seen with me anymore. Like you were scared what people were going to be thinking about you." 

"What sort of twisted ideas did you have about our friendship, Dave? I was hard-pressed to even track you down to see you once a year. Hell, more often than not you were the one to contact me." 

David smiled. "You were pretty easy to find." 

"I had a life," said Jim. "I *have* a life. And you're not part of it anymore." He looked David in the eye. "You've taken away everything we might have had. And a lot that we did have, too." 

"Come on, Jim. You're just still not used to it yet. It'll get better." 

"I have no doubt it will. And when it does, I'm going to be sharing it with my lover. I don't want to see you again. I wouldn't even think of you if I didn't have to." 

"You don't really mean that." 

"Oh, I think I do," said Jim. "I mean every word of it, and quite a few others that I'm not even going to bother saying to you. I don't care what you were trying to do, because what you *did* do was dead wrong, and immoral, and hurtful, and I'm ashamed that I ever had a relationship with you." 

"Jim. Come on. I loved you." 

"Yeah, I loved you too, David. *Past* tense. I have a new life now and you're sure as hell not a part of it." Jim stood up. "I think this conversation is over. These officers are more than enough to protect you from your own folly. Don't call; don't write; don't contact me. You've burned your bridges." 

Turning his back on his former lover, Jim left. 

<><><><><><><><><><> 

He sat with his head resting against the steering wheel for a long while, certain at least one of the men inside the house would look out and see him and not really caring if they did. He needed to steady his body before he started the truck and drove to the station; he wouldn't be any good to anyone if he was wrapped around a telephone pole somewhere. 

"God damn you, David," he whispered. "God damn you." 

Jim turned the key in the ignition and slammed the truck into gear, roaring away from the house and praying it would be forever. Glancing at his watch he saw it was about time he showed up at the station. Still a little early, but there was a lot he figured he could be doing. 

First and foremost in his mind was trying to get a lead on how IA was dealing with his case. He was sure it wasn't one of their priorities, but it was certainly one of his. Especially considering the police protection was doing what they'd hoped on the murder case- -they hadn't lost anyone else overnight, or Jim would certainly have heard about it. 

After checking in with Major Crimes, and finding very few people there, he headed downstairs to Internal Affairs. Peeking his head in the door first, he didn't spot anyone he wanted to talk to until someone tapped him on the shoulder. He turned his head quickly; he hadn't quite realized how suspicious he had become of *everyone* until he felt a brutal clenching in his gut at that first touch. 

"Jim?" 

Jim held off breathing a sigh of relief until he could judge her reaction to him. 

"Sheila." 

"I was wondering how long it was going to take you to come down here for yourself. Come on." She gave his shoulder a tug. "Let's go into my office." 

Jim nodded and went, tired of being led around by the nose, but figuring he didn't have too many other options. Sheila's office was as good and safe a place to be as any. 

"So what am I doing here?" he asked, taking a seat before even being invited to. 

"Congratulations," she said with a wry smile. "You've got half the station taking sides over this." 

"That wasn't exactly what I needed to hear." 

"It's the truth," she said. "You know I don't mince words. So...your case." 

"I know you don't have the authorization to tell me anything, but..." 

"Shhh," she said. "I'm thinking. You're right, I can't tell you what we're doing. What I *can* tell you is that it's being investigated pretty thoroughly." She looked up at him from where she was sitting at her desk. "I asked for this case, Jim. I'm not going to let you down." 

Finally, finally, Jim breathed that sigh. 

"I appreciate it. It's been kinda crazy these last couple of days." He rubbed his palm against his pantleg and didn't really look at her. 

"I can imagine," she said, then paused. "My brother's gay," she said finally. "He came out to us about five years ago now. I had a bit of trouble with it then, but not anymore... Jim, if you need anyone to talk to...?" 

Jim smiled at her. "Thanks," he said, "but Blair's coming home tonight. We have a lot to talk about." 

She nodded and didn't ask for any details about their relationship. He didn't know what she was assuming, but he didn't offer any details either. 

"These guys aren't going to get away with what they did." 

"Good, thank you," he said. "I want people to see that they can't do this. To me or to anyone. Oh, and if you're trying to keep my name out of the papers, don't bother. I'm about ready to stand up myself and say something about what's been going on." 

Sheila nodded again. "We couldn't have kept it out no matter what we tried," she said. "The press is already all over this--I don't know how they found out about it but you're big news, Jim." 

"Yeah," he sighed. "I know." 

"Everything going okay?" 

"It is now," he assured her. "We're making it okay. I just want to do my job and not worry about all these issues anymore. Maybe someday soon I'll be able to do that." 

She looked skeptical, but smiled. "I hope so, too. Will you be available to be called in at the inquiry to testify?" 

Jim nodded. "You know where to get ahold of me." 

"All right, then. Get out of here and get some work done. I'll be in touch." 

"Thanks again, Sheila," he said, standing up. They looked at one another for a moment silently before Jim left the office. It was a relief to know that the person working his case was a friend, and someone who was on his side. His day might just go that much easier now. Not *easy* by any stretch of the imagination. Just easier. 

He went back upstairs and sat down at his desk, finding to his surprise the latest information on the Activist Murders. He flipped through the file carefully, noticing with some regret the lack of physical evidence available. The shootings had been messy and imprecise, the sign of an amateur; whoever shot these men wasn't a killer. Just someone crazy and scared and desperate. They had been able to clear a few other people, but a lot of the men and women who had been outed simply had no alibi. They, like Jim, had been out alone, trying to pull things together in their lives. 

Another piece of paper dropped in front of him. "The short list," came Brown's voice. Jim looked up as the other man sat. "Eleven names. All with motive, all with opportunity, all with no alibi. We spent half the night meeting just about everyone on that damn list and a few others who weren't. I think my instincts are right on this one. Most of the people were upset. A little angry and frustrated, but mostly upset. The ones on this list, they were mad, Jim. What do you think?" 

"I think that if this killer has gone into hiding, then the solution to this one is going to be a long time coming," he said, looking at the new page. "I don't know any of these people," he confessed. "I can't give you a place to start." 

"Then we start at the beginning," he said. "I want you with me on this one, Jim. People are gonna trust you." 

"What about your partner?" 

Brown hesitated. "He's suspended until the inquiry," he said finally. "Can you spare today to go on another round with me? We haven't got anything else to go on. I've got that list and then a whole whack of family members to get through. I'm looking at a hell of a day." 

"I'm with you," said Jim with certainty. "I wanna get this one cleared up more than anyone. I don't suppose I'm anywhere near officially on this?" 

Brown looked apologetic. "'Fraid not. Still want in on it?" 

"Hell, yeah," said Jim. "Let's get started." 

<><><><><><><><><><> 

It wasn't just an excuse to get out of the bullpen and out of the station--Jim was finding to his surprise that he didn't even need that anymore, that he wasn't caring what people thought as long as they didn't get in his way, but he didn't need the aggravation. Who *ever* did? 

The interviews were no piece of cake either. Jim thought he had it bad--some of these people lost their jobs, their friends, and in one case his wife and children. There were no happy stories coming out of this. None at all. It was true, though, that most of them knew who Jim was, and trusted him far more than they would have trusted any other cop. When they finished they were no further ahead than when they started. 

"Let's go back to the first crime scene," suggested Jim, watching the clock closely. "I never got a chance to see it." 

"Jim, man, there's nothing there. Forensics have been all over the place already." 

"I find it hard to believe that there were no footprints, no fingerprints on the door." 

"Believe it or not, man, that's the way it went down. Dumb luck, if you ask me. Maybe a little too much television. All those murder mystery shows on now, any Joe Blow thinks he can plan the perfect crime. Sometimes they get lucky." 

"Yeah, and maybe they just grabbed a gun from their underwear drawer, walked right up the pavement to the door, opened the door with gloves on--hell, they might have even knocked--shot him and walked away. It's so easy to kill someone, when you come down to it." 

Brown pulled up to the house still cordoned off with yellow police tape, and they both got out. He pointed to the houses on either side. "On one side is the Hecht family. They're on vacation. On the other is Emily Richter--she'd hearing impaired and never heard the shots. Across the street, a vacant lot, and up and down the rest of the street parents at work and kids at school. He pointed to a blue-trimmed home just a few houses down. Helen Pederson, just got home for her lunch break. She heard the shots and called it in, but didn't see a thing." 

"No witnesses." 

"No witnesses," repeated Brown. "Dumb luck. You still want to go inside?" 

Jim nodded and ducked under the tape. "Which door did he come in?" 

"The back, we're assuming. John Harding was found dead in his kitchen and there's stress on the door hinges consistent with it being opened with considerable force, though that proves nothing in itself." They walked around the back of the house, and Jim stopped at the end of the walkway. He'd hoped it would have had at least a smattering of dust on it, but to his dismay it was well maintained, the dirt from the bordering flowerbeds neatly swept away. 

"Let me see where he went down," said Jim. The faint chance of footprints was pretty much a lost cause from the beginning, considering how many people had tramped up and down that walkway in the last day. Brown led him into the house. 

Jim still got a bit of a chill when he saw the chalk outline of the body on the floor. It wasn't a visible thing, just a faint feeling of uneasiness. Or wrongness. He supposed it was a sign of humanity, and one he'd never really let Blair in on. Blair had enough trouble with death as it was; he didn't need to be worrying about his partner, too. There was still blood on the floor, and splashed over the rest of the kitchen. Gunshot wound to the head, short range...it was a mess. 

He knelt down and looked a little more closely, but not too close. Without Blair with him he didn't really feel safe expanding his senses too much. One look, though, was enough to tell him that there was nothing there for them. 

"Let's go," he said. 

Brown didn't give him any, 'I told you so's', just turned around and led him back they way they came. Jim didn't ask to go to the other scene. Maybe when Blair was back he'd be able to go, but it was pretty useless now, and besides that, he didn't have much time. Brown drove them back to the station where Jim picked up his own truck and drove to Ryan's house. 

He knocked on the door, and Blair answered a moment later, Ryan right behind him. With his bag slung over his shoulder, Blair reached out and took Jim's hand. 

"Come on," he said. "I'm ready to go home." 

<><><><><><><><><><> 

The loft was quiet, even with both of them there. Jim was sitting on the couch flipping through a magazine, and Blair was pacing from one end of the room to the other. Finally, Jim put the magazine down and looked at his love. "Are you okay?" Blair didn't answer, but he did stop. "Blair?" 

"I don't know. I feel kinda...restless. Nervous." He rubbed his arms like he was cold, mindful of the bandaged one, and looked at Jim. 

"Would you like to come and sit with me?" 

Blair looked a little dubious, but he did go and sit, and Jim was careful not to do anything to make him uncomfortable. 

"How was your day?" 

"I, uh...it was okay. I didn't do much. Ryan took me back to the doctor." 

"Oh? And is everything okay?" 

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. He says it's going to heal up well. Not too bad of a scar, for all that's worth. Besides that, I just hung around." 

Jim's first instinct was to apologize for what Blair had gone through, but he stopped himself. It wasn't his fault any more than it was Blair's, and the constant apologizing between them was getting tired. 

"Is it feeling any better?" 

"Still hurts," said Blair with a half-hearted shrug. "No worse than a lot of other things I've done to myself, though." Jim reached out and gingerly touched the bandaged arm. Instead of wincing or pulling away, Blair just smiled a little sadly. "I'm still scared to be here, Jim." 

Jim nodded. "I figured you would be. That's okay--nothing is going to happen to you, especially while I'm around." 

"Yeah," said Blair with a quiet snicker. "My Blessed Protector." 

"Guess I haven't been doing my job so well lately, huh." 

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe my body got away from you for a little while, but you've been pretty damn protective of my heart." Blair laughed at himself and Jim was cheered by his good humor. "God, that sounded corny, didn't it?" 

Jim just smiled. "Why don't we make something for dinner?" he asked, getting up off the couch. 

Blair followed. "You still haven't told me how *your* day was," he reminded him. 

"It was...just work," said Jim, sounding faintly surprised. "Henri's been great, acting like nothing's changed. I guess nothing *has* changed for him, really. It's kinda nice. We didn't spend much time at the station, though." 

"Jim," interrupted Blair abruptly as he pulled out a cutting board to chop vegetables. 

"Yeah?" 

"Do we really need to be this awkward?" 

Jim just looked at him, then laughed and wrapped his arms around his lover. 

"No," he said. "No we don't." He kissed the top of Blair's head. "Is that better?" 

"Much," said Blair, tilting his head up to catch Jim's lips before the other man went back to slicing strips of meat. "I know I've been kind of a shit lately, but I don't want you to think I'm some sort of fragile flower or something. I've had the chance to do a lot of thinking--you don't have to touch me so hesitantly. You never did before." 

"Things are different now," said Jim quietly, though he wasn't arguing. 

"What, we're lovers now so you touch me *less*? No, Jim. Does not compute. We've been through enough together now...I think you can wrap your arms around me whenever you damn well feel like it." 

"God, do you know what that means to me?" 

"No more than it means to me," said Blair, his eyes bright. "So I'm still nervous, unsure, scared. That doesn't mean we shouldn't try anything. Hell, everyone thinks we're already sleeping together anyway." 

"Blair, I'm not going to..." 

"No," interrupted Blair, "you're not. Or rather, *we're* not. Still, that *is* the eventual goal, right?" 

Jim actually shook his head. "No, the goal is for me to love you and you to love me and us to spend our time together. Anything else is just icing on the cake. Do I want to make love to you?" Jim's voice became tender and wistful. "Yeah, I do, very much. It's something that I'd like us to experience together, but because we love one another, not because it's our 'goal'." 

"Wow," said Blair, going back to cutting his vegetables. He needed something to do with his hands while his mind thought that one over. He was done the carrots and into the mushrooms before he spoke again. "I finished the diary," he said. 

"Oh." 

"Do you not want to talk about it?" 

"No, no, of course I want to talk about it. I'm just not sure what you want me to say right now." He turned the stove on before turning towards Blair expectantly. 

"Nothing just yet. I just thought you ought to know where I was coming from, if I ask you things, or if you want to say something. Ummm...why did you stop writing?" 

"I didn't," said Jim. "Not at first. I just wrote less and less, and then I found myself in a situation where I really couldn't write at all. Didn't want to anymore. And I'm a little old to start keeping a journal again now," he added with a laugh. 

"Hey, who says," retorted Blair, finishing off his task and putting the knife down carefully. "Not that I'm gonna make you or anything. Just...think about it. Okay?" 

"Sure," said Jim agreeably, beginning to cook their stir-fry. It wasn't unusual that they didn't have to discuss dinner plans, that once they knew what they were having they set about their own tasks without having to think about who was doing what. It was the legacy of days and evenings spent together, and of knowing one another's routines so well. 

"I guess there's still a lot of stuff to talk about." 

"Is there really?" said Jim. "I was starting to think it had all been said already." 

"Not between us," said Blair. "There's still so much about you that I don't know. I want to know it all, Jim." 

"You've *always* wanted to know it all. That's your job." 

"Now it's my life's work," said Blair, setting the table as Jim cooked. Dinner set the tone for the evening--comfortable, routine, but with that underlying bit of tension that was part sexual and part something else. For once, Jim didn't insist that they clean up right away and instead coaxed Blair back into the living room, onto the couch. He turned on the television and leaned back, relaxing. 

"I didn't know it was a crush," said Blair out of the blue. 

"What?" 

"What I felt for you--I didn't know it was a crush. Not at first. I just thought it was a part of what we are--best friends, colleagues, roommates. I didn't realize it was a crush." 

"Oh." This wasn't exactly news to Jim, though the way Blair was saying it was different. Like it was something that wasn't scary anymore, just fact, just circumstance. 

"But the funny thing is, I always knew it was love. Even when it was a different kind of love, I always did love you, Jim." 

Jim reached out and put his hand on the back of Blair's neck gently. He was touched by his words, more touched then he felt able to express. 

As the evening wore on and they watched television together, often in silence, Blair came to rest his head in Jim's lap, and Jim began to stroke his hair. He was thrilled to have Blair home again, but it wasn't the tingly thrill that send shockwaves of excitement throughout his body. It was the kind of thrill that came when something snapped back into place and everything felt right again. There was a hostile world outside their doors, but *inside* them equilibrium had been reached. 

As Blair dozed off for the second time, Jim nudged him gently. 

"I think it's time for bed, love." Blair stretched out where he was and then rolled heavily off the couch. 

"I think you're right," he admitted. "The doctor said I'm probably going to sleep a lot while I heal up." 

"And I have to be at work in the morning. You go ahead and take the bathroom first; I'm going to pick up in here." 

Blair didn't argue, and stumbled off into the bathroom to get washed up. When he came back out, a few minutes later, Jim was satisfied with the job he'd done and claimed the bathroom for himself. When *he* came out, he noticed a little sadly that Blair's bedroom door was shut. _Oh well, I guess I can't expect everything all in one night._

Shutting off the lights, he made his way upstairs to his loft. He was startled by the Blair-shaped lump already in his bed. 

"Blair?" 

"Mmm," mumbled Blair. "Took you long enough." He held up the covers. "Hurry up before I start to get cold again." Jim quickly crawled into the bed, Blair's chest up against his back, and felt Blair's arm come over him. The bandages on it scratched against his chest and he was reminded again of Blair's injuries, and why he'd gotten them. 

"Blair," he said tentatively. "I'd like to touch you, just a little, but I'm afraid I might hurt you." 

"I'd like you to, Jim," whispered Blair, "but not tonight. Tomorrow." 

"All right," said Jim. "Good night, Blair. I love you." 

As they both began to drift off to sleep, Jim felt Blair's fingertips toying with his nipple. _He probably doesn't even realize what he's doing,_ he thought, both amused and frustrated. The nipple became tight and peaked, and arousal began to spread throughout his body. His erection came to life and began to press insistently against his underwear. He'd never told Blair how sensitive his nipples were; it seemed he wouldn't have to. 

As unexpectedly as the stimulation had begun, it began to ease off again as Blair became fully unconscious. His breathing evened out and his hand fell slack against Jim's chest. Jim's breathing, however, wasn't even at all. It was ragged and gaspy. His cock was still stiff and expectant, and Jim knew he wasn't going to get any rest until it was satisfied. Reassuring himself that Blair was asleep, he reached down and rubbed himself hard and fast, coming into his hand and onto his stomach. Cleaning himself with Kleenex from the bedside table, he lay back into Blair's embrace and tried to get some sleep. 

<><><><><><><><><><> 

Jim woke to Blair's warm breaths against the back of his neck. It was with regret that he got up out of that sanctuary and left Blair there alone, making his way down to the shower. Sure he could call in and say he couldn't make it in to work, and Simon might even understand, but it just wasn't something Jim could do right now, not even with Blair at home. As he showered, he began to hear Blair moving around upstairs. Waking. 

"Jim?" Blair's voice was still soft and sleep-blurred, having just noticed that Jim wasn't there. Jim hurried up, wanting to spend what time with Blair that he could. He wasn't even going to ask if Blair was going in to the station. Even if Blair had been willing at this point, his injuries were enough to keep him away. 

Wrapping a towel around his waist after running it roughly over his hair, Jim took the stairs two at a time and took a still-waking Blair into his arms. Blair's arm come up around him again, but Jim wouldn't let him drift back to sleep. 

"I've got to go to work now," he whispered. 

Blair nodded. "I know." Still, he snuggled in next to Jim's damp body and Jim couldn't bear to pull away. "You working on that case?" 

"Yeah," he said quietly. "Maybe we'll be lucky and get a break today. At least no one else died." 

"Jim...d'ya think everyone else is getting on with their lives now?" 

"I don't think anyone has any choice." 

Blair nodded, satisfied with the answer, and started the long process of getting up and getting out of bed. Jim helped by getting up first, but then looked helplessly at the pile of clothes he'd set out for himself. "Um, Blair...I've got to get dressed." 

Blair swung his legs over the side of the bed. "I'm okay with that," he said, not quite looking at him. "Go ahead." 

Jim knew that Blair had seen him naked before--more than once--but that had been different. Blair was going to be looking at him with a different set of eyes now, and Jim knew that he was going to be asking himself questions. What will that feel like? What will that look like? What will he want me to do? He didn't waste any time showing off his body, pulling on his underwear and then his pants, not hastily, but efficiently. 

"If you have any trouble today," said Jim, "you know how to get ahold of me. My cell phone before anything, all right? You aren't planning on going anywhere, are you?" 

Blair shook his head. "I'm still tired," he admitted. 

"That's fine," said Jim, turning around as he zipped his pants. 

"I'm going to try and get something done on my dissertation. I have a lot of notes to organize yet...guess that's what I get for following you around on the job and jotting things down all the time." Blair paused and shook his head. "Why couldn't you work in a nice safe lab or something, man?" 

"Because then I wouldn't be a Sentinel, now, would I?" teased Jim. He knew the adrenaline rush that Blair got working with him, knew how much the younger man got out of the experience. The work certainly wasn't one-sided. Blair definitely knew more than most rookie cops now, and probably more than a lot of the others too. Neither one of them was planning on giving it up any time soon. 

"At least my notes would be in order," grumbled Blair, but it was good-naturedly. "Hey, Jim?" 

"Uh huh?" Jim pulled on his socks, then pulled his shirt on over his head. 

"Can we do something tonight? I mean, I'm gonna be cooped up in here all day--might be nice to get out just for a little while. Together." Blair looked nervously at his hands. "I've been feeling a little claustrophobic this last while. Like my whole world has been concentrated inwards." 

Jim nodded. "How about dinner, then? Nothing too strenuous. I, um, can't guarantee that the press won't hound us though. I'm sorry." 

"Don't apologize," said Blair. "I'm tired of all the apologies that we've been giving one another. Can't we just...live?" 

Jim held out his arms, and Blair was in them before he could think about it. 

"We can certainly try," murmured Jim. "That's all we can do. Now how about that Chinese place that you like so much?" 

"I've got a better idea," said Blair. "There's this Mongolian barbecue that I've been dying to try for a while now. Could we maybe...? I mean, if you're not interested that's fine, I'll live." 

"That sounds good. It's not gonna break me, is it?" 

"Ah, no way, man. Even *I* could afford this place. I've just had no time. This'll be kinda like my reward for putting in a full day's work on writing up my dissertation; it's been a long time since I've been able to do that." 

"It can be a reward for a lot of things," said Jim. "But right now...I've got to get going. You'll be all right?" 

"I'll be *fine*, Jim." Before Jim could pull away from Blair, the other man pulled him back for a long, slow kiss. Jim's eyes widened in surprise. "You didn't think I'd let you go without a kiss, did you? You are my lover, after all." Jim just looked at him in silent contentment. "Well, we are," he added stubbornly, maybe mistaking Jim's silence for disagreement, and Jim wondered just who he was trying to convince. 

"Yeah," he replied, "we are. I love you." 

"I know. I love you too. *Now* you can go to work. Knock 'em dead, Jim." Blair winced. "Oops, bad choice of words." 

Jim laughed. "Perfect choice of words. I'll see you later." He gave Blair a last, brief kiss before heading down the stairs and out the door. 

Blair watched the door for a few moments, then, instead of getting back into bed, went downstairs and into his room for something. Rummaging around next to the bed, he came up with a small, bound book and immediately went back upstairs. Crawling back into the bed, he opened the journal and began to write.

> I can't say when everything began, I can only say where I am now, and where I plan to be. The past is important, my immediate past even more so, but if I don't concentrate on my present alone I'm going to go crazy. And that wickedly wonderful present includes an old friend, but a new lover. Jim Ellison. There's a lot of shit happening, too, but I'll write about that later. Only the good stuff for now, the love and the caring and those secret feelings that come bubbling up every so often from inside me. Half the time I don't even know what to do with them. Sometimes I want to touch him so bad and sometimes even the barest caress feels awkward, as though maybe I want it too much and have this hidden guilt inside me for feeling that way. Jim doesn't know I'm writing about this, not yet, and I don't know if I'll tell him for a while. He'd understand, and he probably wouldn't be surprised in the least, but for now this has to be my space, and my space alone. The bad stuff is coming to mind right now, so I'll leave things here. I can write about that once it's dealt with, once it doesn't bring a stabbing ache to me when I think about it. My neglected dissertation awaits, but I'll be back. Soon. 

He closed the book and ran a hand over the cover, tracing the patterns on it, becoming almost mesmerized by them. He'd had it for a long time, tucked it away on countless trips all over the world and rarely did more than look at it. Things always excited him, but never moved him the way this moved him. He smiled a bit sadly as he opened it up and realized that the last time he'd written in it, it had been about Maya. 

There were dozens of journals around his room that documented his travels; this was the only one that had a piece of his soul. Closing it again, he went back downstairs to his own bedroom, and lovingly placed the journal on top of Jim's before lifting an intimidating pile of notes up off his desk and carrying them out into the kitchen to begin his work. 

<><><><><><><><><><> 

"Ellison, I need those forms filled out *yesterday*," barked Simon from his office door. "Where are they?" 

"I don't have them, sir." 

"What?" 

"I don't have the requisition *or* the incident report forms. You haven't gotten them to me yet." 

"Well, why the hell not?" said Simon before slamming his office door, him on the inside. 

Brown raised his head from the papers he was reading and mouthed "PMS." Jim couldn't help but laugh, and Brown looked pleased with himself. "Are the Jags on a losing streak or something?" 

"I think he had money on last night's game," said Jim with a bit of a smirk. "Found anything?" Jim's eyes were still on his computer screen as he scrolled through page after page of nothing--personnel reports on their suspects, financial transactions, phone lists. Hell, next thing they knew, they were going to be looking at grade school report cards. Nothing was fitting. Jim didn't really expect it to, but there was procedure to be followed when a case seemed to be at a dead end and they were following it to the letter. 

Brown threw his pen down. "Is it lunchtime yet?" 

Jim didn't have a chance to answer him after taking a glance at his watch; Meyers came up to the desk and slammed his hand down. 

"My doesn't *this* look cozy!" He lowered his voice to a hiss. "You Jim's new boy toy?" 

Brown looked him right in the eye. "Nah, I'm not pretty enough. Maybe if I grew my hair out a little, though...." Jim tried not to snicker and failed. 

"Fag." 

"Yeah, like I haven't heard *that* one lately," said Jim. "Aren't you late for your lobotomy or something?" Meyers snorted and Jim thought about adding something to that, but the ringing phone distracted him. As Meyers stormed off looking angry and wounded, Brown picked up the phone. 

"Hello?...yeah...where? when?...uh huh...uh huh...absolutely...all right... thank you." He hung up the phone and looked briefly at Meyers' still-departing form before looking at Jim. 

"Who was that?" 

"Lee Hardin...he's guarding at the Downey place. They say there was someone lurking there for a little bit last night; they're faxing over the report now." 

"Damn." 

"Damn?" 

"I wanted to see the scene," explained Jim shortly. 

"Well, look, Jim, it's not like we're doing anything here that can't wait an hour or three. If you're so hot to get over there, then let's go." 

Jim shook his head, realizing that he didn't really have a good explanation for why he couldn't go without Blair. 

"It must have been hours ago. Why are we only hearing about it now?" 

"Well, they didn't find anyone, and didn't find anything left behind. For all they knew, it could have been a neighborhood kid checking out why the cops were there. You know how people are, man." 

_Maybe I should still go. I don't need to go far under just to do an examination of the scene. I'm not going to zone out._ "Yeah, then, why don't we stop by and then head to lunch." 

"I'm *in*," said Brown with a grin, closing everything up. "Let's get out of here. It's so *stale* in here, know what I mean?" 

"Yes," said Jim. "Yes, I do." 

Picking his jacket off the back of his chair, he led the way out. 

<><><><><><><><><><> 

The house was on a shadowy street just far enough away from downtown to have trees lining it and children playing outside in the neighborhood. There was no mob at the scene this time--just a single officer indoors without even a patrol car to show for it. They looked up and down the walk and around the edge of the house before anything else. 

The officer who called in the prowler came outside to greet them. "Hi," he said. "Jason Hutchinson. You're the pair from Major Crime?" 

Brown stood up from where he'd been crouching and offered his hand. 

"I'm Detective Brown," he said, "and this is Detective Ellison." 

The young officer raised an eyebrow. "You're Ellison?" 

"The one and only," said Brown with a grin as Jim offered his own hand. It was a tense moment before it was taken and shook with the same respect and camaraderie given Brown. 

"Is this the window?" asked Jim, gesturing towards the side of the house. 

Hutchinson followed the gesture. "Yeah, that's the one. I wish I'd seen more but it was barely a shadow and as far as I can tell, it never came back. Whoever or whatever it was." 

"Thanks." Jim's manner was brisk, bordering on rude, but Hutchinson didn't seem to take offense. 

"I'll be back inside if you two need anything." He waited for both of them to acknowledge that they'd heard, then left through the back gate and reentered the house. 

Brown waited until he heard the door slam shut before he said anything. 

"Just let it go, man," he said quietly. "You're letting it get to you; you can't go your job that way." 

"I can't help it," said Jim. "You wouldn't understand." 

"Wouldn't I, Ellison?" Brown challenged him. "Do you know how many people at the precinct still look down on me because I'm *black*? You just live with it...and try not to bloody any noses when the urge comes upon you. You're better then that." 

Jim pondered that one in silence, and was a bit embarrassed to find that he almost liked it better when he could believe that he was the only one to suffer under the weight of prejudice. It made his own reactions more palatable, at least to him. He didn't like that rage inside himself, and wanted to have a reason for it. An excuse. 

"I hope so," he said finally, looking Brown in the eye and smiling a little. 

"We'll have to share stories some night after a few beers," he said companionably. "In the meantime, we have a killer to catch...and believe it or not, I want him locked away as much as you do." 

It wasn't so hard to believe, not when he was a detective himself, and knew that driving need to get the criminal element off the streets. It was as strong as any personal vendetta and, in the end, more satisfying. 

Jim crouched down next to the window and began examining the wall, the ground, the plants, the smell that wafted off of them, the sounds the leaves made as they scraped against the siding in the gentle breeze... 

"Jim? Jim, man, you with me? Jim!" 

Jim blinked his eyes and looked at his friend. "Yeah?" 

"You were *gone*, Jim. Hope it was damn interesting." 

He shook his head in frustration. _Damn, damn, damn._ "Not a thing to find...guess I was concentrating pretty hard, huh? No, there's nothing here." Jim stood up from where he had been examining under the foliage at the edge of the house. "We may as well get some lunch." 

"Now wait a second here. Are you sure you're all right? You don't have any kind of medical condition I don't know about?" Brown looked genuinely concerned. 

"No, no," said Jim, his mind scrambling for an explanation. "I guess I'm still a little preoccupied, with everything. It won't happen again." 

"Yeah, sure," said Brown, looking dubious. "It's gotta be getting to you. He clapped a hand on Jim's shoulder. "Let's get something to eat, then slog through some more papers this afternoon." 

"Um, I was thinking about heading back to my loft for lunch, checking on Blair," admitted Jim. 

"Oh. Well, do you want to go pick up your truck at the station, then?" 

"You're, um, welcome to come eat with us. That is, if that won't be a problem..." 

"After what I've been through with you the last couple of days? Trust me, if I'd had a problem you would have known it *long* before this, Jim." 

Jim smiled. "Why don't we head over there, then. I'm starved." 

Brown shook his head ruefully. 

"You aren't the only one, man. You might regret inviting me, I'm gonna eat you out of house and home." 

Jim gave him a grateful look. "It would be worth it. Thanks." 

"Hey, nothing to thank me for! Let's go." 

<><><><><><><><><><> 

They listened to the sound of the wheels against the street for a while, a somewhat awkward silence falling over them. Brown shifted restlessly, his eyes slipping to glance at Jim every so often. 

"I, uh, talked to Rafe last night," he said finally. 

No response. 

"He's been doing all right." 

Jim just grunted. 

Henri sighed. "I'm sorry man. I know what he did....but he's a friend, you know?" 

"Not mine," said Jim flatly, his eyes trained on the road. 

"I'm not excusing him." 

"I know." 

"But he's been my partner for a long time. There's got to be some reason...I just wish I knew what..." 

"The only reason," said Jim icily, 'is homophobia and hate. He sat there and *watched* them do it, H. I can't forgive that." 

Brown shook his head. "I know, man. I know. It's just not so easy..." 

"If it were you, it would be," he replied. 

Silence descended again, and neither man looked at the other. 

"I'm sorry," said Henri finally. "I just wanted to get it out in the open, man. Because having it hanging there...it was in the way. You know?" 

"I know," said Jim. "Maybe a couple months from now I'll even be able to talk about it." Knowing *Henri* needed to talk about it didn't even matter. He couldn't, not with any semblance of reason. The hurt was still too fresh. 

"All right," said Brown. "That's all we need to say for now, then." Just when the silence began to return, Brown's stomach rumbled noisily and Jim had to chuckle a bit. 

"I'd say lunch is calling," he said. "We're almost there." 

Jim never did look at him. 

<><><><><><><><><><> 

Blair heard the door open and turned around, peering over the railing to see who was there. He hadn't been expecting to see Jim until that evening at the earliest; seeing that he wasn't alone was just a mixed blessing. 

"Jim?" he called down. 

Jim looked at the wide expanse of papers spilling off the edges of the table, then looked up at his roommate. 

"Hey, Chief, we're just here for some lunch. You doing all right?" 

"I'm doing fine, Jim. You didn't need to be checking up on me." 

"I'm not checking up on you. I'm hungry." 

Blair grinned. "I'll be right down." He pulled on his sweatpants and grabbed one of Jim's t-shirts out of the drawer. It was a little big, but not so much that he was swimming in it. It was actually a rather comfortable size. The bandages that circled his arm were clearly visible, but a clean, bloodless white. For once, seeing them didn't throw him into a brief, terrifying flashback. 

He took the stairs quickly, then strolled confidently into the kitchen to greet Jim. 

"How's *your* day going?" 

"Long," interrupted Brown. "Very long. How're you doing, Hairboy?" 

Blair shrugged. "I'm doing all right. You guys waiting for me to make you lunch or something?" 

Brown looked faintly embarrassed. "Well, uh..." 

Blair rolled his eyes and dug around in the fridge, pulling out a tomato and some only-slightly-wilted lettuce. 

"Uh, Jim? We are, like, *desperately* in need of some groceries. I can make you some sandwiches, though." 

"That'll do," said Jim. "Let me give you a hand there. You think we should skip that dinner tonight and do some shopping instead?" 

Blair considered that for a moment. "No," he said finally. "I don't think I want to miss that dinner for anything. I've been looking forward to it all morning. But hey, our grocery store is open to eleven...we can go afterwards. You shouldn't shop on an empty stomach anyway, Jim." 

Jim cut off the lecture with a kiss. "Did you get much done?" 

Both were aware of the fact that Henri had backed away and sat down at the table, watching them. Both were also a little hesitant, their kiss fleeting, but their banter comfortable and natural. Blair didn't answer Jim's question, instead looking at him with a steady gaze. 

"I won't let them make me afraid," he said quietly, then kissed him again. Despite his declaration, Jim could feel the minute trembles that wracked Blair's body. He caressed his lover's shoulders comfortingly, then went about putting the sandwiches together. 

"No, I didn't get much done," answered Blair finally. "I'm just so damn tired. Maybe this afternoon..." 

"Don't push yourself too hard. Your body's healing, you're *supposed* to be tired. Remember when you were shot...?" 

"Yeah," said Blair. "How could I forget *that*?" 

"Well, you slept for a week. I rest my case. Henri, sandwiches are okay, right?" 

"Huh? Oh, yeah, of course, sandwiches are fine with me. Need my help with anything?" He didn't look particularly anxious to get up, but the offer was sincere. 

"No, we're fine," said Blair. It took longer than might be expected, but only because Blair and Jim paused at random moments to touch, or kiss, or just look. Henri felt a bit awkward at first--he'd known these guys for a couple of years now, and seeing...*this*...was a bit of an eye-opener--but as the minutes passed, it just seemed more and more natural. Not that he suddenly felt like he'd be seeing it all his life...more like he thought that he should have been. 

Jim set down a plate in front of him. "How many more dead ends can we possibly hit in one day?" he asked, shaking his head ruefully. 

"Do *not* say that. You *know* what happens when someone says that." Brown took a bite of his sandwich as his eyes scolded Jim. "We'll get back to the station and...all the papers will be gone. Or your computer will have crashed. Or something." 

"Do not even *joke* about computer crashes," said Blair, sitting down at the table. Brown noticed that he ate awkwardly, first trying to lift the food with his injured arm, then remembering to switch. "They are the bane of students worldwide." 

Brown nodded. "And there's no way I'm letting you out of the precinct again, Jim. Not after what happened at the Downey place. You sure that was nothing?" 

Blair stopped in mid-chew and looked at Jim with wide eyes. Jim bit back a curse. 

"Yeah, I'm sure it was nothing." His eyes were locked with Blair's, and the younger man was looking increasingly suspicious. "I'm *positive* it was nothing," he repeated emphatically. 

Blair gave him a last, lingering look, then chewed, swallowed, and stood up. 

"Henri, if you'll excuse us for a moment, Jim and I have something to discuss." Brown's expression was a study in confusion, but still he nodded. Jim groaned as he stood up to follow Blair into his bedroom. 

"What the hell is going on, Jim?" he asked, both angry and afraid. 

"Nothing," said Jim, raising his hand and rubbing his temple as though he felt a monster headache coming on. "They spotted someone prowling around on of the places we have officers stationed at. I went to check out the scene...had a little bit of a zone-out, I guess." 

"Oh *man*, I though we had those under control," said Blair, agitated. "Tell me exactly what happened." 

"Blair, you don't need to worry. I was just a little overfocused...I didn't go too far under or anything. Henri shook my shoulder and I was out of it like that." 

"And what if he hadn't? Jim, that's dangerous. You haven't had a zone-out in a long time, why do you think...?" 

"I don't know," interrupted Jim. "Stress?" 

"Yeah, I guess. You've got to be careful, Jim. On top of everything else...well, you know what I'm getting at. I can't be there with you right now; you've got to watch out for yourself." 

"Henri's a good man. He's watching out for me." 

"But he doesn't know about your *senses*, man," he protested, tapping Jim's chest with both hands. "And *that's* the problem. How are you gonna explain it if you suddenly go under and he has to deck you to get you out of it? For that matter, how *are* you explaining it?" 

"I told him I was just a little distracted lately. It's the truth." 

"You can't use that as an excuse forever. Neither of us can." Jim leaned over to kiss him, but Blair backed away. "Not now, Jim, I'm not in the mood. Now what are we going to *do* about this?" 

"Blair, there's nothing to worry about. Henri's taking me back to the station where we're going to sit with a pot of coffee and go through reams of information on our suspects while fending off bigots who, I swear, don't have two brain cells to rub together. And then I will come home, and we will go out for dinner, and if you are *still* worried, *then* we can talk." 

Blair shook his head. "And what if that's too late?" 

"It won't be. I give you my word that we won't go out again." 

"You can't *do* that, Jim. You can't know what's going to happen." 

"Well...I can't stay here, and you can't come in, so where does that leave us?" 

Blair just crossed his arms over his chest and looked thoughtful. Then, without a word, he left the room and walked back over to the table where Henri was still sitting. 

"All right," he said. "If something like that happens again, and Jim seems like he's too focused, just shake his shoulder and call his name. If that doesn't work, *call me*. All right?" 

"Yeah, sure," said Brown. "Mind telling me what's going on?" 

Blair looked back at Jim, behind him, who just shrugged. 

"I can't really explain it," he replied. "Jim gets a little overfocused when he's under a lot of stress. It's no big deal, just watch out for him." 

"Sure, I'm *thrilled* to be Ellison's babysitter," said Brown, but his grin showed he was teasing. 

"Listen," said Jim testily. "This isn't something you need to be discussing with anyone, all right?" 

Brown saw the severity in his expression and nodded. 

"Of course. Say, you got any more bread? I'm gonna make myself another one of these." 

"On the counter," said Blair with a sigh of relief. "Help yourself. You want anything to drink?" 

"I know where to find it," Brown replied, his head already in the fridge. 

Standing behind Blair, Jim carefully laid his hands on his shoulders. "Feel better?" 

"A little," said Blair, leaning back against his lover. Jim's arms came around him in a loose embrace. "I'm your Guide; I'm supposed to worry about this." 

"Not right now, you're not," he said decisively. "You have enough to worry about without adding my senses to the list. Hell, so do I. Don't give it another thought. The most excitement I'm likely to see this afternoon is another idiot commenting on...well, you know." 

"Do I ever. I haven't checked the messages yet, by the way. You might want to do that before the answering machine commits suicide on us." 

"Let it," said Jim. "Brown and I have got to get a move on anyway." 

"All right," said Blair. "I guess I'll see you later." 

"You get lots done on your dissertation this afternoon," said Jim. "Hey, Henri, better make that one to go, we've got a bit of a drive ahead of us to get back in good time." 

"Yeah, sure," mumbled Brown, slapping his sandwich together. "I'm ready whenever you are." 

This time, when Jim turned Blair around to give him a kiss, the other man didn't pull away. 

"I'll see you later. Take care of yourself." 

"You, too," said Blair, sitting down to finish his lunch as the two detectives raced off to make it back to the station. Once they were gone, he left the remains of his sandwich on the table and went into the living room to pick up the phone. He punched in the number from memory and waited. 

"Banks." 

"Uh, hi Simon. It's Blair." 

"Sandburg? Something wrong? Jim's not in right now..." 

"No, no, Jim just left here. He came by for lunch. I, uh, wanted to ask for a bit of a favor." He chewed on his lip a little while he waited for an answer. He hadn't talked to Simon in a couple of days, not since it had happened, and didn't know quite where the captain stood on everything. 

"What kind of a favor?" 

"It's Jim...he had a zone-out this morning, Simon. And I need someone to keep an eye on him who knows what the deal with him is." 

"What do you mean by zone-out? How did he get out of it if you weren't there?" 

"Brown was there. He still doesn't know what it was, and we aren't planning on telling him. I just need to know that he's going to be all right if I'm not there. I don't know, maybe I *should* be there..." 

Simon paused. "I can't say I'd recommend that, Sandburg. Maybe in a few days, when things cool off. Jim's getting a hard enough time as it is." 

"What *kind* of a hard time?" asked Blair urgently. 

"Nothing you need to worry about. People are just saying things, that's all. Look, I'll do what I can to make sure Jim stays safe, I just want you taking care of *yourself*. I heard what happened...are you all right?" 

"You heard...? Yeah, I'm okay." 

"Good to hear. Was there anything else?" 

"No, no, that was it," said Blair. "I guess I'll see you soon." 

"Good-bye, Sandburg." 

"Bye." Blair hung up the phone and went back into the kitchen, sitting down at the cluttered table with his laptop and his reams of notes. There was nothing left that he could do now but wait. 

<><><><><><><><><><> 

Six hours and a quite a few thousand keystrokes later, Blair heard Jim's key scratching at the front door and got up to flip the deadbolt. 

"Hey," he said mildly, pulling the door open. 

"Hey, yourself," said Jim. He looked around reflexively, saw the haphazard piles of notes around Blair's laptop, and smiled. "Productive afternoon?" 

"Yeah, I guess," he said, a bit dejectedly. "It's all coming together." 

"Whoa, what's with the long face? This is a good thing, isn't it?" 

"Yeah, of course. I think I'm still a little down, I guess. I hate things coming to an end, you know? Once I finish this...I'm done. That's it." 

"Whoa-ho. You don't really believe that, do you? Aren't you the guy that told me he has enough material in me to keep his career going for a good thirty years?" 

"Yeah," admitted Blair. 

"Chin up; let's go for that dinner. We can talk about it then, if you'd like." 

"I'm not even sure what I need to talk about, Jim, but dinner sounds good." Going back to the table, he shut the laptop down and closed it, standing and stretching out a little. 

"Sore?" 

"Everywhere," he admitted. "A couple more days and it'll feel fine, though. We should get going; we're already running a little further behind than I thought we'd be." 

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that," said Jim. "We managed to get a psych consult on the case. Give us more of an idea where we're going with this one." 

"I thought you didn't like that kinda outside influence, Jim," commented Blair as he picked up his coat from by the door. 

"We can use anything we can get. It's just so...random. Well, not random, just--because of circumstances, even someone who might not normally have done this could have been driven to. There are too many people with not enough evidence, and we're getting nowhere." 

"That sucks," said Blair, without his usual enthusiasm or energy. Then, suddenly, he smiled and took a few steps forward to kiss Jim. "You know," he said, "sometimes I'll just be doing nothing, or feeling bad, or thinking about something else entirely, and then suddenly you'll be there in my head. And I feel all this...stuff...like a wave going through me. And it feels so good." He paused, the bright smile still on his face. "I'm glad we're together, you know." 

Jim could do nothing more than reach out and hold him. 

"Me too," he whispered. "Me too." They stood there like that for a long time, just holding and breathing and thinking about nothing but the other. 

Until Jim's stomach rumbled. 

They pulled apart, laughing. "Okay," said Blair. "Now we've *really* got to get going. Especially if we want to get any shopping done after dinner." Jim agreed, and they were on their way downstairs to the truck within moments. 

<><><><><><><><><><><> 

The restaurant was dimly lit and sparsely populated, despite Blair's dire predictions. They were seated quickly at a nice table near the wall, lit with a bowl candle in the center of the table. Soon they had picked out their food and were waiting for their heaping plates of meats and vegetables to be delivered to the table. Jim reached out and held his hand open, as though waiting for Blair to entwine their fingers. After a moment, he did. 

"You sure this is such a good idea?" 

"What does it matter, now?" he asked, but after a lazy moment just looking at his lover, he pulled his arm back again. "Oh God..." he said, spotting something somewhere past Blair. 

"What, what is it?" he asked, looking around nervously. Jim could hear his pulse begin to race. 

"Nothing you need to worry about," said Jim, beginning to get up out of his seat. 

"Jim?" Blair swiveled in his seat again to try and see what was going on. This time he spied the camera crew making their way towards them. "Oh, man," he said. "This is just *too* much." 

"Detective Ellison, I'm Gerri Hicks from Channel 27 news. Can we ask you a few questions?" 

"You had better have a damn good reason for interrupting my dinner," he said angrily. 

"Detective, just a few short months ago you were named Cascade's Officer of the Year. Now you're in the news for a whole new reason..." 

"No, you listen to me," said Jim, pointing a finger at them. "You want an interview, then fine. You'll get your damn interview. But at least have the common courtesy to wait until I'm finished eating. It's just inexcusably rude to interrupt my meal, as well as the meals of everyone else in here. Is that clear?" There was a smattering of applause around the restaurant from people who were within earshot. 

"This will only take a couple of minutes..." 

"Out," said Jim with finality, crossing his arms over his chest in an unconscious imitation of his Captain. Gerri tried to stare him down, but was utterly unsuccessful. 

"I'll catch up with you later, detective," she said, smiling sweetly and ushering her cameraman out of the restaurant. After watching her leave, Jim sat back down at the table. 

"That just sucked," mumbled Blair into his waterglass. 

"Yeah," agreed Jim. "But what do you do?" 

"You really gonna give 'em an interview after that?" 

Jim shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe. Feels like sooner or later I'm going to have to, and I think I'm starting to have something to say. They're going to print stories regardless; why shouldn't I have some sort of say in it?" He was interrupted by their meals, steaming plates heaped with food. "Blair, this looks *great*." 

"Boy was I right about this place. I'm starved." Jim watched Blair dig into his food for a moment, happy to see his appetite return. Pretty soon, everything else might get back to normal too. Or as normal as things were ever going to be. 

"Did you find time to put together a grocery list?" asked Jim as he began to eat his own meal. 

Blair nodded, his mouth full. A moment later, he was able to answer. 

"Yeah, I scribbled something down. It's in my pocket. I figured we'd earned the right to pick up a few impulse items, too..." 

"Hey, if we haven't earned that right, then what's it all been for?" teased Jim. His food was quickly disappearing; Blair wasn't the only one whose appetite was reemerging. "Listen, Blair, I was thinking..." Blair lifted an eyebrow as he chewed. "With, you know, everything...we haven't really had a chance to talk about *us*. At least, not without the other stuff getting in the way." 

Blair nodded thoughtfully. "It's not exactly getting in the way, Jim. It's just *there*, and it's not going anywhere either." 

"You know what I'm saying, don't you?" 

Blair smiled. "Yeah, I think it's time we talked about us again. Now that I can at least *think* about us again without remembering the rest of it, too." 

"But not here," said Jim, cleaning off his plate. "Later." 

"At home," agreed Blair. "With a blazing fire and a cup of tea and *no* distractions." 

"Besides each other," amended Jim with a gentle smile. Seeing Blair finishing off his own meal, Jim dropped some money on the table and tilted his head towards the door. "Why don't we get out of here before the press hounds make a return visit?" 

"Sounds like a plan to me." Blair stood up with Jim and they made their way out the back doors of the restaurant. They halted halfway to the truck. 

"Well, shit," muttered Jim angrily, suddenly starting off again towards his vehicle where Gerri Hicks and her cameraman had been camping out, waiting for them. "What is it you want from me?" he asked her brusquely. 

"Just a few words," she said brightly. "That's all we need. Believe it or not, Detective Ellison, we're on your side." 

"If you were on my side," he muttered, "you'd let us live our life in peace." Blair had caught up with him by this time and stood by his side. 

"Okay, roll," she said. "Detective, considering the events of the past couple of days, how has your life changed?" 

Jim sighed. "My life hasn't changed, only the way people see it. I still do my job and eat my dinner and do hundreds of other things that everyone else in this city does every day. It doesn't change anything that the person I choose to be with is a man and not a woman." 

"And what about the murders?" 

"You'll have to talk to the investigating officer about that," said Jim, back on familiar territory. 

"But you do know something about the case, considering how closely you're related to it...?" 

"I don't have anything to say on that subject, and I believe this interview is over. Chief?" he said, holding out his arm to his partner. "Let's go get the shopping done. If you'll excuse us?" Gerri wisely backed away, though she kept the camera rolling until the two men had driven out of sight. 

<><><><><><><><><><><> 

Grocery shopping took over an hour, and when they were finally done, they had a half dozen bags to haul back out to the truck. Of course, the grape fight in the produce department hadn't sped things up any, and neither had their age-old coffee versus tea argument, but in the end, they had both walked away in good cheer. 

"Last one," said Blair, dropping the bag on the table. Jim had already started putting things away, and Blair watched him with a bit of an amused grin. He'd always been entertained by Jim's neatness fetish. "You need any help?" 

"I think I've got things under control," he said. "You shouldn't have been carrying anything...how's the arm?" 

"The arm is fine, Jim," he said, rolling his eyes. "It's as fine as it was half an hour ago, the last time you asked." 

"Can you blame me for asking?" 

"If you stopped asking, maybe I'd stop thinking about it." 

Jim looked him over with a slightly worried eye, but didn't ask him again. The groceries didn't take long to put away; it took longer to clean out everything in the fridge that had gone slightly bad. 

"Do you want to put some tea on?" 

"Not just yet," said Blair, taking his hand. "There's somewhere I think we should go first." 

"Go?" asked Jim, puzzled. "But we just got back." 

"I meant upstairs, Jim. On the roof. It's a beautiful night; we should take advantage of it." 

Jim remembered the last time they'd been up there. Had it really only been about three nights ago? They'd lived forever in less than a week, it seemed. Twice forever. 

"You're right; we should." 

"Don't worry," said Blair quietly. "I'm remembering, too." He held out his hand to Jim and together they left the apartment. 

<><><><><><><><><><> 

There was a cool breeze blowing across the rooftop, but it was more of a caress than a distraction. Jim was lying on his back on the pebbled roof while Blair sat next to him, sometimes playing with his hair and sometimes just looking at him. 

"So what are we?" 

"What do you feel like we are?" 

"I'm not looking for riddles, Jim. I think we're lovers. Partners. Friends. Pretty much everything to one another." 

"So why did you ask?" 

"Because I wanted to know what you would say." 

"Ah. Blair, you're...when we first got together, I knew that I was in love with you. But now...my God, the things you've gone through for me, the things you've done. Even when you're upset and afraid... Blair, I don't think I could ever stop loving you now. You're my whole world." 

Blair exhaled softly. "Wow." 

"I mean it. You are." Jim leaned up on one elbow and looked at him earnestly. "I don't know how I'd have coped with it without you." 

Blair leaned forward and kissed him softly, then deepened that kiss. 

"So this is permanent, huh." It wasn't a question, it was a revelation. 

"Yeah," breathed Jim, waiting for another kiss. He wasn't disappointed. Blair's lips descended to touch his over and over again, parting just enough that he got a taste of the moisture within. For most of his life, the kiss had been just the beginning of something else, but Blair's kisses were a whole experience in themselves. "I don't want to ever lose you." 

"You're not going to. I've come this far, and I want to take it all the way. 'Til death us do part, Jim." 

"'Til death us do part," he whispered in agreement, stealing another kiss. And another. Blair continued to give them freely, his fingers brushing along Jim's hairline then caressing his cheek. 

"So what happens now?" 

"I don't know," admitted Jim. "I guess we play it by ear. Do whatever feels natural, or feels right. It'll be easier for us, when this case is over, when there isn't a constant reminder over our heads." 

"You know, maybe that reminder doesn't have to be such a bad thing. It's not like it's a lie, Jim--we *are* together. We *are* lovers." 

"Blair, you can't tell me you're ready to declare that to anyone who sticks a camera in your face, to everyone who walks up to you on the streets, even to every person you already know." 

"No," said Blair. "No, I guess I'm not, but the shock is fading...it's not like a monster looming over us anymore." 

"No monster, but still looming, I'm afraid." 

Blair smiled. "When I stepped out of my closet, I evicted all the monsters, too." 

Jim laughed and held out his hand to Blair, who stretched out along the rooftop next to him and looked up at the stars. Jim's arm cradled his body carefully, not letting the bruised bits press against the hard roof. 

"Pretty nice night." 

"Yeah," smiled Blair. "It is, isn't it. You know, it's awfully convenient that I already live with you..." 

Jim snickered. "Yeah, you say that *now*, when we're in that whole 'first blush of true love' sort of thing. Wait a month." 

"Shush, I'm finally able to enjoy this. Let me." Blair snuggled in closer and Jim began running his fingers up and down Blair's good arm. "Feels nice," he murmured, a little drowsily. 

_He's healing,_ Jim told himself. _Don't begrudge him his rest. And if you'll admit it, you're healing too._ Jim really didn't want to admit how much he had been torn to pieces, and how much work was going to have to go into rebuilding his relationships. On the outside, things would get back to normal. On the inside, it was a long road ahead. 

Blair mumbled something that Jim couldn't decipher, then his eyes fluttered shut and he fell deeper into sleep. Jim continued to lie there, looking up at the sky and holding his lover in his arms. For a moment, it was perfect. Then the breeze picked up, and he felt the prickle of goosebumps on Blair's arm. With a wholly content sigh, he got to his feet and picked up his partner to carry him back into their apartment. 

Grunting slightly, he managed to free a hand to open the apartment door, handling Blair a little indelicately. Dead weight was hard to manage, no matter how pretty a package it came in. Glancing briefly at the couch, and not at all at the downstairs bedroom, he carried him up the stairs to his loft and lay him gently on the bed. 

"Blair," he said aloud, savoring the name for a moment, his mouth twisting into a smile. Carefully, he pulled Blair's shirt off over his head and lay it beside the bed. The bruises on his torso were still an angry purple, but they were beginning to yellow at the edges. Not as fresh as they had once been, but still vicious. Jim winced in sympathy. 

He took off Blair's pants and socks with the same care, laying them down as well, and pulled the covers overtop of him. Stripping quickly, he crawled in beside him and curled up next to his lover again. His hand brushed over one of the bruises on Blair's side, his sensitive fingertips picking up the swelling without seeing it. Careful not to hurt him, he moved his hand away and rested it against smooth skin while burying his face in Blair's neck. Even so, Blair moaned in his sleep. 

<><><><><><><><><><> 

"Blair. Honey. You've got to let me go." Jim lifted Blair's arm off of him and tried to get out of the bed. 

"Nooo, just a few more minutes," whined Blair, but his grip on his lover wasn't strong enough and Jim slipped out of his grasp. 

"Work," he said simply. Blair moaned and flipped over onto his stomach, hiding his face in the pillow. "I need to get washed." When Blair didn't answer, Jim tied his robe tightly around his body. He looked beautiful lying there. He looked untouched. Jim had to tear himself away to go downstairs and shower. 

They had made it though Day One. Day One together of their life, their real life. And Day One had turned out to be pretty damn good. So why didn't he feel so good about the beginning of Day Two? It wasn't Blair; there was just this *feeling*, deep in the pit of his stomach. Like dread without the anxiety. 

Shaking it off, he got into a steaming hot shower and scrubbed himself down quickly. He couldn't help fantasizing about what it would be like if...when...Blair joined him there. His cock swelled, but he didn't give himself the satisfaction of doing anything about it. Blair was upstairs and, right at the moment, Jim decided that his next time would be with him. 

He heard a shout from outside the bathroom and, without thinking, hopped out of the shower and raced towards it. Blair was sitting bolt upright in the bed, the blankets pooled around his waist. The hair at his forehead and temples was damp with sweat. 

"Blair? Blair, what's wrong?" 

Blair looked at him, but his eyes didn't focus for a while. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to scare you. I just..." Jim sat down on the edge of the bed, but didn't touch him. "I just sort of remembered." Jim let Blair be the one to reach out and touch him, gently, on the thigh. 

"It's okay. It's all over." Jim didn't know the right words to say to soothe him, if indeed he needed soothing. Despite the physical evidence, Blair seemed as composed as he ever was. 

"Look at me, Jim. It's not *over*." 

"You're beautiful. And it *is* over, if you let it be." 

Blair sagged back onto the bed. "Sometimes, it's really hard to let it." Smooth sailing was a myth; nothing was ever as easy as you thought it would be in the best of times. "Guess it's my turn in the shower huh." He rolled over and suddenly encountered Jim's sopping wet body. "What the--?" 

Jim chuckled. "Sorry," he said simply, standing up and leaving a huge wet spot on the bed. He didn't seem to realize that he was standing there, naked, in front of Blair, and neither of them were bothered by it. 

"Oh, man, what a way to say good morning," muttered Blair, getting out of the bed on the other side, his back to his lover. "You couldn't have grabbed a towel on your way or something?" 

"I was worried," said Jim, not letting Blair's attitude hurt him in the least. "I thought something was happening to you. You're okay?" 

Blair paused. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just give me a minute to get dressed and I'll go down and make breakfast." He didn't turn around, looking for his clothing. "Um, Jim? Where are my pants?" 

Jim leaned over the bed and handed them to him. "Right here. I'm gonna go get that towel now," he added with a grin that Blair couldn't see. 

As he made his way down the stairs, Blair pulled on the sweatpants and rummaged through Jim's drawers for a comfortably oversized T- shirt--he still preferred loose clothing that wouldn't irritate his injuries, and probably would for a while. 

"Toast and eggs all right?" he asked as he hit the bottom of the stairs. Jim emerged from the bathroom, nodding. 

"Sounds good." He didn't want to go in to work. Every fiber of his being was telling him to turn around, spend the day with Blair, be somewhere else when it--whatever "it" might be--happened. But years upon years of training kept him on his way there, despite what he, and his body, wanted. 

He supposed it was this residual feeling of dread, the knowledge that this day would hardly be any better than the last, and that whatever people were thinking about him yesterday, they were still thinking about him today. Nothing will have changed overnight, no matter what had happened between him and Blair, no matter what he had said to the press. 

It was an oppressive thought, but one he couldn't shake. And so it was with that same heavy sense of impending doom that Jim drove to the station. 

<><><><><><><><><><> 

"Hey, Ellison, my man," said Brown with a broad smile as Jim walked through the bullpen. 

"What's with the good spirits?" he asked suspiciously. "Did you get some last night or something?" _Oh, yeah, smooth._

"Looks like we might have this case in the bag," he said without resorting to the cheap shot he could have. He waved a file in Jim's face. "Sit down." 

Jim hung up his things carefully before sitting down, leaving Brown frustratedly shifting his weight every few moments. 

"'Bout five o'clock this morning," he said when Jim was finally attentive, "they got a call in downstairs about an armed b&e and robbery. They picked up the guy and when they ran his name through the computer, they flagged this." 

Jim looked at the information in front of him. 

"Clark Rose." He looked up. "He was on our list." 

"Exactly, man," said Brown triumphantly. "I think a little questioning is in order; it looks like we might have our man." 

Jim breathed a sigh of relief and finally smiled. 

"H, I don't think you could have given me better news." Standing up, he gestured towards the elevator. "Let's get this over with." 

"My pleasure." 

<><><><><><><><><><> 

They sat in an interrogation room, across from a very uncommunicative man in his early thirties, regional chairperson for a large national charity. Last year he'd been awarded the city's humanitarian award for his work; now he was here. 

"You two again," he said bitterly. 

Jim didn't want to lay into him, but what this guy had done was just atrocious. Brown took the lead. 

"Yeah, us again. Got something you want to tell us this time?" 

"I didn't do it." 

"Yeah? Well let me remind you just why you were picked up today." Brown looked at his notes. "Let's see, first you smashed out the rear window of the store, then you pulled out a loaded gun and went inside, then--" 

"Yeah, I know what I did, and I know what I *didn't* do. And I didn't kill anyone." He looked tired. No, more than that, he looked like he'd aged a few years just in the couple days since they'd seen him. "I just can't believe all this is happening." 

"Hey, buddy," said Brown angrily, "you're the one who--" Taking a deep breath, he calmed himself down. Some suspects would only respond to threats, some would only respond to a quieter atmosphere. It was all too easy to just threaten everyone to try and get what you wanted. 

Rose shook his head angrily. 

"I don't care what you *think*," he said. "I didn't do it. What kind of monster do you think I am?" Brown caught Jim's eye and Jim nodded slightly. "What? What are you thinking?" 

"We're gonna give you some time to think about it," said Brown succinctly. "Things go a *lot* smoother when you confess, you know. Hell, they might even knock a year or two off your sentence." 

Rose jumped to his feet. "Hey, I said I didn't do it!" 

Jim left the room, but Brown turned back for a moment. 

"Just think about it," he repeated. 

"What do you think?" asked Jim when they had left and the duty guard had gone back in to retrieve the suspect. 

"Book him and let a jury decide," he said. "I'm ninety-nine percent sure he's the one." Jim nodded. He'd stayed quiet in there and monitored Clark's responses. If he was innocent, he was the most nervous innocent man Jim had ever met. "Feels good, doesn't it." 

Jim didn't answer. Yeah, sure, it felt good, but all his problems hadn't been miraculously solved just because the case was over. At least now, though, he might be able to extract himself from the media circus a little more. 

"Tell me again how many forms there are to fill out when charging a prisoner already in the custody of another department...?" asked Henri, to break the silence. 

They looked at one another and groaned. 

"Hey, Jim!" Jim heard Michael's voice behind them and turned. "Jim, can I talk to you for a sec?" 

Brown looked from one to the other. "Jim, I'll meet you back upstairs in a few, all right?" 

Jim nodded. "What's up?" he asked his friend. 

"I just wanted to, you know, apologize. For the other night." He looked uncomfortable, unable to look Jim in the eye. 

"Look, Mike, there's nothing to apologize for," said Jim. "If I had to apologize every time I had *feelings* for someone, I'd probably spend the rest of my life doing it." 

Michael looked up and smiled. "Thanks, Jamie, I think I needed to hear that. I really do love Gregory, you know." 

"Yeah, I know." 

"He's home now, too. Just needed to clear his head a little, be with family and all. And I think I needed to give him that space, too..." 

Jim chuckled a little. "You're preaching to the choir, Mike. I'm glad things are working out for you." 

"Well, I'm guessing it's gonna be a little rocky for a while, but we've both still got our careers and hopefully a long future ahead of us. I just wanted to clear the air with you, make sure everything was cool." 

"Everything's cool," Jim reassured him. "Listen, I've got to get back upstairs and start on some stuff, but give me a call later tonight and we can work something out so we can all get together sometime. Sound okay?" 

"Sounds great," he agreed. "Thanks." Jim was the one who turned to go on his way, and Michael watched until he had rounded the corner to the elevator before going back to his own work. 

<><><><><><><><><><> 

"Ellison!" It was a knee-jerk reaction to feel a bit unnerved when Simon Banks said your name like that. "In my office." 

Jim and Henri exchanged a look. 

"Yeah, on my way," he muttered, getting up. He shrugged in response to Brown's unvoiced question and made his way into Simon's office. 

"I had an interesting little tidbit come across my desk just this morning," he said mildly as he closed the door to the office. "Care to take a look?" As Jim reached out for the piece of paper Simon was holding up, the Captain snatched it back. "What the *hell* were you doing visiting David McGuinness?" 

"What are you talking about?" 

"Are you denying that you went to see him?" 

"No, no I'm not. But what does that have to do with you?" 

"Jesus, Jim. You were a former suspect on this case and you go visit one of the men under police protection, alone, early in the morning, and have an argument with him. What were you *thinking*?" 

"Simon, listen to me on this one. David called me up and *asked* me to come over. Or doesn't it say that in that report of yours? He said if I came then he'd leave me alone, for good." 

"What, was he harassing you? Threatening you? What?" 

"No." 

"Then what is it?" 

"Simon, don't ask questions you don't want the answers to." 

Simon crossed his arms. "I never do." 

Jim waited for him to qualify that statement, but he never did. He sighed. "David and I were in a relationship for about 5 years, about the time we were in college. It ended badly." 

"Yeah, I see that." Simon didn't look particularly surprised. 

"No, he wouldn't have done this as petty revenge," argued Jim. "This was because of some twisted conviction of his." He sighed again. "I just wanted him out of my life. Is that a crime?" 

"Not a crime, just an incredibly stupid thing to do." 

"You don't have any grounds for reprimanding me, sir," Jim reminded him. "I didn't do anything wrong." 

Simon leaned towards him. "What were you *thinking*? Do you know what kind of suspicions could have risen from that?" 

"Something *worse* than what's already going on? I can't imagine that. I did what I had to do and it's *over*. I don't see what I'm doing in here, no disrespect intended." 

"Look, Jim," said Simon. "I know we've been clashing a bit these last few days, but this is *really* in your best interest. You hear me? I don't care *what* you two had going on way back when, you just don't go visiting people under police protection without reason, and without authority. You got that?" 

"Yes, sir," he replied, looking straight ahead and not at his captain at all. 

"I'll talk to you later." 

Jim was very familiar with dismissals, and left the office with expediency. Brown was still sitting at the desk, but he didn't talk about the conversation he'd just had. It was still bothering him, probably because he knew that Simon was right. 

<><><><><><><><><><> 

When the phone rang, they both looked at it. Finally, Henri answered. "Hello? Yeah, he's...uh huh?...just a sec..." He handed the phone over to Jim, covering the receiver with his hands. "It's IA," he said quietly. 

Jim nodded, unconcerned, and took the phone. "Ellison. Yes...that's fine with me...yes, yes it was...I'm happy to hear that...I'll see you then." When he hung up the phone, he didn't precisely have a smile on his face, but he certainly looked in better spirits. "The hearing's tomorrow," he explained. 

Brown nodded, not looking half as pleased as Jim. "I know that's good news for you and all, bringing some guys to justice...but Rafe's still my partner. You know?" 

"I can't forgive him, Henri. At least, not yet." 

"I don't expect you to. I just can't be as happy about this as you." 

"I'm not happy, just satisfied," said Jim. "Nothing about this situation makes me happy. I'm just glad that things are almost over. All I ever wanted was my life. Is that too much to ask?" 

Brown gave him a half-shrug, then reached out and squeezed his shoulder. It was a pretty daring move, considering the events of the past few days, and considering just where they were. 

"I think it's going to be all right," he said quietly, but with conviction. 

"Well, I have to testify tomorrow," Jim went on. He wasn't ignoring the gesture, just acknowledging it the best way he could--with a slight nod and an even smaller smile. "One p.m. We should be all finished with this by then, right?" 

"Hell, if I have my way, we'll get it done by the time I go home tonight, and *you* can get back to work on the cases you're actually assigned to." Jim looked a bit guilty. He'd done a bit of work on one of his cases the previous day, but by and large his time had been devoted to this case and this case alone. "We'll all be glad to have this one over with." 

_Me most of all._ Jim nodded his head, hoping that would be enough to convey the depth of his agreement. "Where do you need me to sign?" he asked picking up an intimidating pile. "God, you'd think they'd want us out there getting the bad guys, not in here pushing pencils." 

"I just keep telling myself this is how we *keep* the bad guys," said Brown ruefully, handing over a few sheets. "Just be thankful we weren't the guys discharging the firearms." 

Jim dove into the work, wishing he were somewhere else doing some*thing* else, but still thankful to be working at all. And working free of harassment, though the looks were still there--the angry, confused or disgusted gazes. Seeing what happened last time, no one was really willing to do anything physical, but the intent was still almost tangible in the looks and the silences. 

There was a hush over the bullpen, a noticeable decrease in volume, and Jim looked up to see what was going on. The last thing he expected to see was Blair walking towards him, weaving his way through the desks. Only Jim would have been able to notice the signs of nervousness in him; Blair's expression was set in stone--in itself a sign of something wrong. 

"I brought your messages," said Blair, handing him a semi-organized sheaf of notes. "You never checked the machine, so I figured I'd better do it for you. There are a few of these you ought to return right away. We've really got to remember to get that number changed." 

Jim nodded silently, so Brown took it upon himself to break the ice. 

"Hey, Hairboy, how's the arm?" 

Blair looked at him gratefully. "Doing better," he said. "Still pretty gross to look at, but I'm using it a bit again. Holding down the fort by yourself, man?" Blair looked around belligerently. "Doesn't look like anyone else is getting much done." 

Jim couldn't help snickering and right then the grumbling started, but it was better than the silence. 

"You could have just called," he said, not reproachfully but curiously. 

"Well, I thought I'd take you to lunch while I was at it," he said. "I had to stop by the university and pick some things up to get ready for my classes next week anyway. You up for a bite?" 

"I'm up for a few," he said, understanding what it was that Blair hadn't said. He'd gotten up and left the apartment, alone. He refused to be afraid. Jim could have kissed him right there if they hadn't been at the station, among his peers. 

"H, you wanna come along?" Blair asked him. 

"Nah, I'm gonna finish up here, maybe grab a sandwich at the corner. You need a little extra time to make those calls?" 

Jim looked at the stack of paper in his hands and chuckled a bit. 

"I just might. I'll try not to be too late; some of them I can make from here, I'm sure. See you in a few, man." 

"Yeah, see you later." He gave them a half-assed wave as they left together. The real conversation started as soon as they'd entered the elevator and were presumed out of earshot. 

"That kid has got a *lot* of nerve showing up here," said Harris, frowning. 

"Shit, Jas," said Rachel, "he's been working here for two years. He has as much right to be here as you do." 

"He's a fag!" 

"So?" said Brown, standing up. "What's it to you?" 

"What the hell do you mean by that?" 

"I mean what does it matter to you whether the kid sleeps with guys or not. He ain't gonna be sleeping with *you* any time soon." 

"It's not normal." 

"Oh get *over* it," said Rachel frustratedly. "Like it's really gonna affect you. At least *he* can get a date." 

"Yeah," snorted Harris, affecting a falsetto. "Oh, Jim! Fuck me, baby!" 

"Oh, so it was *you* I heard last night," growled Brown, moving towards him menacingly. Harris shoved his chair back and stood up, too. Most of the Major Crime bullpen began moving away from them. 

"And you," said Harris. "You've been spending *all* your time with Ellison lately. "You two got something going on?" 

To his surprise, Brown laughed in his face. 

"No way, man. Even if I was interested, Sandburg would kick my ass. Now what," he said, moving closer and invading Harris' space, "are you afraid of?" Harris moved back an inch. "Thought so. Who's the sissy ass man now?" Shaking his head, he moved away. "You're not worth it, man." 

Rachel wasn't strong enough to hold Harris back when he went lunging for Brown, but Simon's office door slamming open stopped him in his tracks. "Back to work!" 

Dead silence descended, then everyone slowly went back to their respective desks, picking up the work they'd left behind when they went to watch the action. Simon stood in the doorway until the last person had gone back to their desks. 

"Detective Harris," he said, loud enough for everyone to hear. "I don't care *how* you feel about it, if I *ever* hear talk like that in here again, it's you who's going to be on his way out. Got it?" 

Harris looked at him darkly and gave him a curt nod. Simon went back into his office, satisfied, but not before catching Brown's attention and giving him a slight smile and a nod. 

<><><><><><><><><><> 

"I brought this back for you," said Jim, tossing a cellophane-wrapped sandwich on the desk. Brown looked at it expressionlessly. "I know you--you would have waited until after work and then gone out for some greasy burgers and fries." 

"Yeah, yeah, and you wanted to make sure I loaded up on some low-fat shit," he grumbled, but despite his protests he began unwrapping the sandwich and munching on it. 

"Ellison." 

"What *now*?" Jim burst out without thinking, coming very close to blushing when he realized what he'd done. 

"Easy there," said Simon. "I just wanted to ask you when the kid'll be ready to come back to work here." 

"Back here?" 

"Yeah," he said. "Actually, it's the Chief who's asking. I had to tell him Sandburg'd had a bit of an accident, right when there's a case we could use him on." 

"What kind of a case?" asked Jim, hardly able to think of what to say. He'd half been expecting Simon to discourage him from coming back, now here he was trying to speed up the process. 

"Some thefts from the museum," he said. "Technically, it's not one of ours, but he thought maybe Sandburg might be able to find some kind of pattern in the incidents. Right now they're looking awfully random." 

"Well, I can't speak for him," he said, "but I'd imagine he could come back soon if it doesn't involve anything strenuous. Give him a call if you want to know--you know where to reach him." 

"I'll do that," said Simon. "Just thought you might like to know..." 

Jim appreciated the gesture, and hoped it was genuine. 

"Thanks, I did." 

"Back to work, Ellison," said Brown, giving him a nudge. "I, for one, want to get home before the sun goes down and spend some quality time with the family." 

Jim smiled in silent agreement and got back to it. 

<><><><><><><><><><> 

The smell of dinner cooking reached Jim before he made it halfway up the stairs. Chicken, definitely chicken. And potatoes. Maybe something for dessert mixed in there too? He took the rest of the stairs two at a time. 

"Hey, Jim," said Blair. "You're early." 

Jim looked at his watch. "Not as early as I'd hoped I'd be. This smells great!" 

"Yeah, I hope so, man. I wasn't planning on making anything much for dinner, but we're gonna be having company." He dropped the oven mitts on the counter and walked to the door to give Jim a welcoming kiss. "I was going to spend the afternoon at the library, maybe get all that class stuff done to free up some time this weekend. But you know how these things go--" 

"Company?" repeated Jim. "When did *this* happen?" 

"Oh, well Michael called up this afternoon, just to see how I was doing--pretty nice of him, huh?--and we got to talking a little and...well, him and Gregory are coming over in about half an hour. You don't mind, do you?" 

"Are you kidding? I think it's great," he said. "I need to get changed and washed up. You need a hand with anything?" 

"No, no, I've got it all under control," Blair assured him, returning to the kitchen. "I actually figured on having it all done by the time you got home. We don't have much to drink though, will that be all right?" 

"We can always go out and pick something up later," he reasoned, jogging up the stairs, "if anyone wants anything. Do you figure on it being a late night?" 

"You know them better than I do," said Blair, opening the oven again. The scent wafted upstairs, and Jim inhaled deeply. Maybe this dinner would be just the thing to get his spirits back up; despite the progress they'd made today, the case was still weighing heavily on him. It probably would until the suspect had been tried, convicted and put behind bars. 

Putting on a fresh pair of jeans and a nice shirt, he made his way back down and joined Blair in the kitchen. 

"I can watch this for a few minutes if you want to get changed yourself," he offered. 

"Actually, if you wouldn't mind, I'd love to have a quick shower before they get here. I've been *slaving* away in this kitchen all afternoon," he added dramatically. 

Jim kissed the tip of his nose. "Go shower," he said. "You'll get your reward later tonight. Whatever *you* want. Anything I should know about this?" 

"Yeah," said Blair, disappearing into his room for a moment. "The chicken is in for at least another twenty minutes and the potatoes fifteen. If I'm not back by the time you take the potatoes out, put the beans on. Got that?" 

"Got it," said Jim. "Now hurry before I ruin something." 

"You inspire, like, *so* much confidence," he joked before closing the bathroom door. "Burn it and you're sleeping alone, man." 

Jim laughed to himself and checked on everything before sitting down at the table and opening his mail. Before he'd even gotten through seeing how much he owed American Express, there was a knock at the door. 

"Yeah?" 

"Open up, Jamie," Michael called out. "And you'd better have a fire going 'cause it's starting to rain out there." Jim let the two men in. "Jim, Greg, you remember one another, right?" 

"Of course," said Jim with a smile. "No fire yet, I just got in." 

"Mmm, smells great," said Michael. "Blair's some cook." 

"Yeah, well Blair's really something else," replied Jim. "Make yourselves comfortable." Hearing the shower stop, he went and knocked on the bathroom door. "Blair? They're here, hon." 

"Thanks," he said, and Jim heard his hair dryer come on. "I'll just be a couple more minutes. 

Jim pictured Blair's copious amounts of hair and shook his head. Ten minutes, minimum. And that was leaving it more than a little damp. 

"You guys want anything to drink?" 

"Yeah," said Michael. "You got any of that beer left from the other night?" 

"A couple," said Jim, grabbing him one. Handing it over, he went back into the kitchen and watched the other two men get comfortable in the living room. Michael hadn't been lying to him when he'd said he was in love with Gregory; that was clear. 

Jim had begun to feel like he and Blair were the only two men having a relationship in the entire city. Everything had felt so focused on them and them alone. Now, seeing Michael and Gregory together, it was one less thing preying on his mind. Even before being outed in the press, his life had rarely involved doing anything with other gay couples. Another thing that had driven him and Michael apart. 

He checked on the meal, but it was all bubbling away happily without his interference. All there really was for Jim to do was wait for Blair to return. 

<><><><><><><><><><> 

"Is something burning?" 

"*Nothing* is burning," said Jim as Blair stepped out of the bathroom running a hand through his, yes, very damp hair. "Everything is perfect." He turned on the burner under the beans and stood there with a defiant look on his face, tinged with a hint of amusement. 

"I wish," said Blair under his breath, but the smile remained on his face. "Go sit down, I'll take care of this. Looks pretty much done to me." 

"Let me set the table," said Jim, not letting Blair protest. "You always get everything crooked anyway." It was Michael and Gregory's turn to watch the banter, holding hands on the couch and waiting for dinner to be ready. "Didn't your mother ever teach you how to set a table?" 

"No, but she did teach me basket-weaving this time on a commune in Colorado..." 

"Oh yeah," said Jim, rolling his eyes, "*that's* useful." 

"Lover's spat," whispered Gregory to Michael. "They're adorable aren't they?" 

Jim shouldn't have been able to hear the comment, but of course he did and directed a glare in their direction. Michael, in a supremely un-cop-like gesture, crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue. Jim burst out laughing in spite of himself. 

Finishing with the table, Jim walked up behind Blair and put his arms around him. He loved holding Blair that way, loved the feel of the other man in his arms. And, right now, he loved the fact that he could do it with other people there and not have to worry about disapproval or consequences. 

Blair must have been thinking the same thing, because he turned around and kissed him soundly. "They won't care," he said, somewhat in awe of the realization. While he had been staying with Ryan and Rob, carrying on a relationship with Jim like that had been the last thing on his mind. Now...now it seemed to be the first. 

Jim smiled--grinned really. "Nope," he said and kissed him again. "Dinner ready?" 

"Dinner? Oh, right, of course." Blair turned back to the counter where he had been putting everything into serving dishes. "Yep, all ready to go. Now *sit*. All of you." 

Jim nodded at their guests and watched as Michael helped Gregory up, lingering a moment and caressing his hand with his thumb, then leading him to the table. "Blair, this looks absolutely wonderful," said Gregory. "Does he do this for you all the time, Jim?" 

"Yeah, I wish," said Jim with a grin directed solely at his lover. Blair swatted him with a potholder as he set the last of the food on the table. 

"Just for that you're cooking tomorrow," he said, finally sitting down with the rest of them. 

Jim groaned. "Can we get take-out? I got a call from IA, and I have to testify in front of them tomorrow. You know how grueling that can be." 

"Hey, that's great," said Michael, perking up. "They're really going all the way with this, huh?" 

"I always knew having a friend in IA would come in handy some day," said Jim. "Thank God she was on my side on this one. I think she's the one that made sure it didn't slip through the cracks." 

"Hey," said Michael grandly, "A friend of yours is a friend of mine..." 

"Uh huh, nice try," laughed Jim, spooning potatoes onto his plate. "She's a hardass, Mike. You're not getting *anything* out of her." 

"I have my ways," he said menacingly, wiggling his eyebrows. 

Blair laughed as Gregory smacked Michael's shoulder. 

"You just *try* and have your way with her and I'll have your ass." 

"He will," whispered Michael to the other two men conspiratorially. 

Blair nearly killed himself laughing while Jim watched, a little more used to Michael. They all needed the release right now, so badly. Conversation dwindled as plates were piled with food and ravenous appetites were appeased. 

"So why the hell did you have to take off so early the other morning?" said Michael conversationally. "Couldn't that asshole David wait?" 

Silence. 

More silence. 

"You went to see David?" Blair's forkful of potatoes was paused halfway to his mouth. 

"I..." Jim shot a look in Michael's direction. "The other morning he called, said if I visited him he would leave us alone. Blair...that's all I wanted..." Michael and Gregory looked at one another and quietly got up from the table; Blair hardly seemed to notice. 

"You didn't tell me," he said mildly, his body still frozen in place. 

"I know," said Jim. 

"Why didn't you tell me?" 

"Because...because I didn't want you to know," he said, brutally honest. Blair nodded, and nodded, and kept nodding. "Blair?" 

"Yeah, Jim, I figured that part out. Why didn't you want me to know? Feeling guilty?" 

"I have no reason to feel guilty," he said, then smiled a little remembering all the conversations that he and Blair had had recently. "I'm not the one who should be feeling guilty, he is. I just wanted him out of our lives." 

"Don't protect me, Jim." 

_So he does understand._ "How could I not want to protect you...especially now?" 

"Well, *don't*!" said Blair emphatically. "I want you to be there *for* me...not be there *instead* of me. By my side, not out in front. Can you do that?" 

"Yes," said Jim quietly. "Blair...let's eat dinner. If you want to...we can talk about this later. All right?" 

"Later," repeated Blair. "We will." He stared at his forkful of potatoes for a moment, then shoved it into his mouth quickly. 

Michael and Gregory faced away, leaning against the back of the couch and talking to one another quietly. Looking like they weren't paying attention, when everyone present knew that they were. 

"Come eat," said Jim, looking down at his plate. After a couple more moments, they did, but the silence was uncomfortable for everyone. Blair didn't say another word for the entire meal. The other three men tried to make small talk, but it was forced, and they were all sending one another apologetic looks. Half the time, they didn't even know what they were apologizing for. 

"We're gonna call it a night," said Michael as they finished helping Jim with the dishes. It hadn't turned out to be the dinner that any of them had expected. He turned towards Blair, sitting in the living room. "Blair, dinner was wonderful. Let us do the honors next time, all right?" 

Blair turned to them and nodded, forcing a smile. "I will," he said. "Have a good night and thanks for coming." 

Michael turned back to Jim and spoke quietly. "You two gonna be all right?" 

"Yeah," said Jim. "Things are still a little tense, you know? We'll be fine, just need a little time." 

Michael kept looking at him until Gregory took his arm and steered him towards the door. "Jim, it was a nice dinner. Hopefully, the next time we all get together things will have worked themselves out," said Gregory with an understanding smile. "Mike, ready?" 

"Yeah," said Michael. "Good night." 

Once they were gone, Jim stared at the door for a while before turning away from it and towards Blair. 

"You can yell now." 

Blair shook his head. "I don't want to yell, or be upset, or be mad...I'm tired of it all. I just want it to be over. Even when I think I'm having a good time, someone can say something and..." His voice trailed off. 

"And?" 

"I want to meet David." 

"What? No! Blair, there's no way..." 

"Why not? It's not like he's any kind of threat to me, or to anyone. He's just a guy. A guy you used to *love*, mind you, but still just a guy. And maybe if I see him...then maybe I'll feel different." 

Jim went and sat down beside him. "It was a bad idea for me to go there in the first place," he confessed, even though it was something Blair undoubtedly already knew. "And now, without police protection there anymore...it's an even worse idea. No." 

"Then what's the address," said Blair quietly. Determinedly. 

"I am *not* letting you go there alone." 

"Jim, *stop* it. Stop protecting me. I can understand if you don't want to go, but I do. I *need* to." 

"Why do you need to, Blair? Do you really think that by going there it's going to change anything?" Jim instantly regretted his words, but there was no taking them back. _He's not made of glass...stop worrying about breaking him..._

"Nothing can change what's happened," said Blair. "I know that Jim, I'm not delusional. But there are things that can change *me*. Things that can change the way I see things and the way I feel about things. Don't you get that? Don't you *feel* that?" 

Jim just stared at him. "I don't...I don't want to do anything that's gonna hurt you--hurt us--more. He really believes that what he did was right, you know?" 

Blair barked out a laugh. "You know...I hate him, Jim. Not for what he was for you, but for what he did. But it's strange...knowing that he believed in it...it almost makes me respect him a little more." 

"You're kidding." 

Blair shook his head. "I'm not. Isn't that weird?" 

"Not for you, Chief, I suppose." 

"It's like...at least he believed in it. At least he didn't do it for revenge. But, well, I still can't forgive him." 

"I'll take you," decided Jim finally. "But please, make *sure* you want to do this." For the first time, he reached out and touched Blair, lightly, on the knee. "God, this is *not* how I imagined our relationship happening." 

"So you've said," replied Blair with a wry smile. "I want to go tonight, Jim. But first--" 

"First what?" 

"First I want to sit and relax with you for a little while. That all right?" 

"More than all right," said Jim. "This has all been so draining." He sighed. "This whole thing, this whole outing thing...it wasn't like one big event at all. It was more like this long, drawn out...*torture*, or something." 

"'not with a bang but a whimper'," mused Blair under his breath. 

"What was that?" 

"Just something T.S. Eliot wrote," said Blair. "It goes 'This is the way the world ends, this is the way the world ends, this is the way the world ends, not with a bang but a whimper'." 

Jim smiled. "I've read it." Throwing an arm along the couch, behind Blair's back, he encouraged his lover to move closer, to lean up against him. "But the world isn't ending, Blair." 

"No, but *something* is ending. And something else is just beginning." He smiled at Jim, and kissed him tenderly. "It's not so hard," he whispered, "to love you." He kissed him again, and began running his hand up Jim's chest, over his shirt. "Maybe the other stuff...won't be so hard either." 

Jim was very careful about what he said next. 

"It's your call, Blair. We've never explicitly come out and said all this...but you and I both know that I'm experienced." 

"I'm counting on it," he said, his arm resting across Jim's chest, his head still on Jim's shoulder. "Let's go. Let's do this so I can get it behind me." 

"You still want to?" 

"I still want to," he said firmly, getting up from the couch. 

"All right. Let's go." 

<><><><><><><><><><> 

Jim turned the key and pulled it out of the ignition, then switched off the headlights. Both men just sat, facing forward and staring down the street; turning their heads just a little to the right would mean looking at the house of the man who had changed everything. 

"Still sure?" asked Jim finally. 

Blair took a deep breath and nodded, then began to open his door. 

"Wait!" hissed Jim unexpectedly. 

Blair looked at him in surprise, only to see him listening to something intently. 

"What? What is it, Jim?" 

"There's someone in there," he whispered urgently, getting out of the truck quickly and snatching his gun out of his back holster. "Stay here." As he made his way around the truck, Blair got out of his own side. 

"I'm your back-up," he said, leaving no room for argument. 

"Then back me up *from here*," said Jim impatiently. "Watch the front door, make sure *no one* comes out. If something happens call, I'll hear." Quickly, he made his way to the side of the house, then carefully rounded the corner, heading for the back door. 

"Who the hell *are* you?" 

"What? Don't you know? Don't you remember the names of all the people whose lives you ruined? Didn't you ever think about their faces?" 

Jim recognized David's voice; the other he didn't, but heard the underlying sound of a gun being cocked, of it whistling quietly through the air as he waved it around in agitation. He pressed himself up against the side of the house and made his way around, hopefully undetected. 

"Yeah, I thought about their faces! I thought about their faces plastered on billboards so that people would *see* them! See them as they really are! See that it can be anyone, anywhere, and that it doesn't *matter*!" 

_David, don't be an idiot! The man has a gun!_ Jim pressed his back flat up against the wall next to the screen door in the back and listened for a moment. There was heavy, panicked breathing from both men inside and faintly, faintly, he heard the sound of sirens in the distance. _Blair called for backup. *Better* be back-up._

The breathing inside slowed, and Jim could almost *feel* the battle of wills going on between them. There was someone outside, around the corner, too--a heartbeat that he recognized without even thinking about it. _Blair. I knew he couldn't stay put. Doesn't he know by now I can *tell*?_ Jim's stream of consciousness did not detract him from the situation. He tried to make a mental map of the interior of the room, figuring out where the man with the gun was, relative to the door, relative to David. Figure out whether bursting through the door would save David's life, or cost it. 

"Freeze, police!" 

Jim made his choice, knowing he couldn't wait any longer, and kicked open the screen door, training his weapon on the gunman. The startled man whipped around towards him, fear in his eyes. His gun dropped to the ground. Before Jim knew it, he was hurling himself through the window and, after a brief stumble, racing across the lawn. 

From outside the house, Blair was both relieved and frightened to hear Jim join the fray. Then there was the eardrum-shattering sound of smashing glass, fragments of it showering down on him. Shutting his eyes tightly and protecting his head with his arms, he could only feel the shape flying over him. A moment later he shook himself off and opened his eyes, seeing a blond man racing across the yard. 

Jim was right behind him, leaping through the open window and following him to the back alley. It took Blair a moment to compose himself, wincing as some of the glass fragments dug deeper into his skin. Even he could hear the sounds of the man hurling himself at the high wooden fence, trying to get over it. A few minutes later he came back in the other direction, Jim hot on his heels. 

Blair didn't think, just started to run after him. 

"Stop!" he shouted, going faster than he thought he could. The pain in his side didn't even stop him as he threw his body forward and tackled the fleeing man. "I said stop!" 

He barely even heard the sirens over the sound of his heaving breaths and his rapid heartbeat. 

"Over here!" The voices and footsteps came closer; Blair didn't have the energy left to look up. "He's got him!" 

Blair felt a hand on his shoulder, rolling him off the other man. 

"What the hell is going on here? I thought you two had the guy!" 

"We *did*." That was Brown's voice, coming closer as well. "At least we *thought* we did. Dammit." Then Brown's hand was on him, shoving the other person away. "Blair? You okay?" 

Blair blinked his eyes open and shook off the dizziness that prevented him from rising. He tried to speak and was almost surprised when he was successful, given how the rest of his body felt. 

"Yeah, I think so," he replied finally. 

Relief flooded Brown's face. 

"Jim would have killed me if anything had happened to you." 

It was quickly getting darker outside, the sun reaching that point in the sky where it hung, mere moments away from disappearing completely. 

"How'd you get here...so fast?" 

"I was working late," said Brown. "Yeah, I know I said I wanted to get outta there...guess I wanted the case cleaned up more." He turned to someone else beside him. "Call an ambulance." 

"I don't need--" 

"The hell you don't," said Brown firmly. 

"I'm okay--" 

"Yeah, sure you are." 

"The other guy...?" 

"Unconscious. Hell of a whack you gave him, kid! We'll know what's happening here soon enough. Jarvis?" he said, nudging someone next to him. "He awake yet?" Apparently he got a response to the negative, because he didn't go anywhere. "Feel well enough to sit up?" 

"I told you, I'm fine--" Blair's response was cut off by a wave of dizziness that overcame him. It faded a little once Brown had him up into a sitting position. "Okay, maybe not." 

"Blair!" Blair would have known Jim's voice anywhere. He turned to see him, no matter how much it hurt, and smiled. "Blair are you all right?" 

"Yeah," he said. "I'm fine." He didn't, of course, feel fine. He felt like death warmed over, if that good. Every part of his body hurt, but it was nothing serious. Bruises. More bruises. And probably a bit of a concussion, too, though he wasn't throwing up or anything. 

Jim was kneeling next to him and feeling him all over, looking for signs that he wasn't as okay as he said he was. 

"Dammit, I told you to wait out front." Blair just gave him a look. *The* look. "Can you get up?" 

"I'll need a hand," he admitted. "But yeah, I can get up." He took a firm hold on Jim's hand and got shakily to his feet. Brown stood up with them. "What the hell happened?" 

"Well," said Jim, smiling just a little. "You, love, just caught our killer." 

Blair's first instinct was to scan the area and see who was close enough to hear Jim say that. When he realized that the other cops were preoccupied with the arrest, he relaxed a little and let Jim slip an arm around his waist to hold him up. 

"I have a murderer to take care of," said Brown, trying to make a graceful exit. "Jim, take your time. I think it's finally over." 

Blair was standing under his own power, rubbing sore limbs and brushing fragments of glass off his skin and clothing by the time David was led out of the house. Blair looked up, but it didn't hit him right away who he was looking at. 

"Jim," he said hesitantly, "is that...?" 

"Yes," he said simply, his voice gone flat. 

Blair took another good long look, conflicting emotions threatening to overwhelm him. He was in no state for this, not anymore. As they got closer, the officer left David's side and headed towards the vehicles, where the gunman was being placed in a squad car for transport. David continued towards them until he reached Jim's side. 

It was a long moment before Jim turned his head to look at him, longer still before anyone broke the uncomfortable silence. 

"You were here," said David. "You were already here. How did you know?" 

"We didn't," snapped Jim. "It was just dumb luck that we were here to save your sorry ass." 

Blair looked at David steadily, taking it all in. He didn't see a monster standing there, just a man. Just someone who would probably never really know what he'd done. 

"I wanted to meet you," he said, his eyes never leaving David's face. After a long, measuring moment, he turned back to Jim. "I'm done now." 

"Hold it," said David, "who the hell are you?" 

"This is Blair," said Jim. "My partner." 

David squinted at the anthropologist. "You're a cop?" 

"No," said Jim patiently. "My *partner*. Blair lives with me. You outed him too, David." Ignoring his former lover, he turned to his love. "Blair, the ambulance is here. Let's get you checked out." 

Blair took a last look at David and shook his head. 

"There's no point, is there?" he said quietly. "No matter what I say, it won't make a difference. You're not worth my time." Turning away, he let Jim's arm come around him and together they walked away. 

<><><><><><><><><><> 

Jim rested his palm tenderly along Blair's cheek as they got into the truck. It had to be getting close to midnight now--a couple of hours at the hospital plus everything that had gone down at David's place had added up. Aside from some cuts and bruises, and some bleeding where a couple of the stitches in his arm had torn loose, he was fine. Sore, but fine. 

"Ready to go home?" Jim asked him, thinking the question rhetorical. 

"No," said Blair. Jim turned to look at him, open-mouthed. "No, let's go to the park or something. Get some air, some open space." 

"I really don't think you're up to--" 

"I am," interrupted Blair. "I want to talk some more and I want to do it before we go home." His eyes were very serious when they met Jim's. "And the reason I want that is because when we get home, you and I are going to make love." At Jim's stunned expression, Blair held up a hand to keep him from speaking just yet. "There are things that I need to say and things that I need to hear--even if I've said and heard them before--before I can do that." 

Blair needn't have worried about interruption; Jim was speechless. He'd never heard Blair say those things to him, things he'd been waiting a long time to hear. 

"Blair, what are you...why?" 

"Can't you just take it at face value?" 

"Oh, you have no idea how much I want to...but I need to make sure you know what...you've been so hesitant, and as much as I want you...I don't want you to do anything you're not ready for." 

Blair nodded. "Drive, Jim. Someplace safe. Then we'll talk about this, all right?" 

Jim was ready to go home and crawl into bed and do whatever Blair wanted, but what Blair wanted was apparently to talk, so talk he would. It wasn't like they still didn't have a million and one things they needed to talk about. Jim stopped the truck near a small park that was well lit and in a well-populated area. Having to find a safe place to go with someone wasn't something Jim had had to do in a long time, and he found he didn't much like the necessity of it. 

Blair got out and started toward a small copse of trees; Jim had to jog a bit after locking up the truck to catch up to him. "Wait up, Chief," he said as he reached Blair's side. 

"It wasn't what I thought it would be," said Blair, cutting right to the chase. "Meeting him, I mean." Jim just nodded. "I'm not quite sure what I was expecting. To put a face to all this, maybe. To find someone to blame." 

"What *did* you find?" 

Blair stopped for a moment to look at him. "I found someone that you used to love very much. I wasn't expecting that. I mean, intellectually I've known that all along...but that's the first thing I thought of when I saw him next to you. Your relationship." 

"A relationship that was over a very long time ago," Jim reminded him gently. 

"I'm not jealous," he protested. "If there's one thing I've learned over the past week, it's that you really do love me. Love me like *that*, I mean. And that there isn't much you wouldn't do--" Blair looked too embarrassed to go on. 

"Blair, there's *nothing* I wouldn't do for you. Yeah, I know that sounds like a line out of some cheap romance, but it's true. And we're going to need that kind of devotion and conviction to get through the next little while." 

Blair began walking again, looking around at the world surrounding him. "So we're really out, huh," he said, like the fact was hitting him again for the first time. "For good. Are we gonna try and hide, Jim?" Jim shook his head. "Are we gonna go out together? *Be* together? Not care what people say or think anymore?" 

Jim nodded. "As much as we can, Chief. As much as we can." 

"I don't know if I can do that," he admitted. 

"Blair," said Jim worriedly, "we can *try* to maintain a low profile, but..." 

"Not possible," said Blair. "Not anymore. No, I meant I don't know if I can not care." 

"C'mon, Chief, you've always done your own thing." 

"Yeah...but I've always *cared*." He tried to pull his thoughts together. "Jim, I'm gonna be with you. Hell, I'm pretty sure I'm going to be with you for the rest of my life. That's not up for debate at all. But I care what people think." 

"Guess we're going to have to change the way people think then," said Jim, matter-of-factly. 

"Easy as that?" 

He laughed. "The only thing easy about this is loving you, Blair. Something has happened, something that has changed our lives, and in a lot of ways it, well, *sucked*. But that doesn't mean we can't make something of it." 

Blair smiled a little. "I've already had all the bad stuff. The looks, the jeering, the abuse. Now I want the good stuff. You." While they'd been talking, they'd made a complete circuit of the path and were approaching the truck. And somewhere along the way, quite naturally, they had begun to hold hands. Blair paused again and ran a hand down Jim's clothed chest. "I want you," he repeated, happiness and wonder in his eyes. 

Jim couldn't resist wrapping his arms around his lover and kissing him lightly. 

"Let's go home." 

<><><><><><><><><><> 

Blair hung up his coat and went into the kitchen, opening the fridge and pouring himself a glass of water. His partner came in behind him, locking up and setting his shoes neatly by the door. Neither said anything--but Blair's decision hung in the air between them. 

Finally, he set his empty glass down on the counter and turned to Jim who had been standing there, watching him. He reached out an arm towards his lover, and Jim took it. 

"I was serious," said Blair, moving closer. "I knew what I was saying. I know what I'm offering." 

"I know," said Jim, taking a step forward himself so they were standing only inches apart. There was nothing more Blair felt he needed to say, so he pressed his lips against Jim's, first just enjoying the sensation without worrying about its consequences, then slipping his tongue out to trace Jim's lips. Jim moaned softly, his arms coming around his lover. "Let's go upstairs." 

Blair shook his head, not even breaking the kiss, and lay his hands on Jim's hips, holding him without restricting him. The kiss had to end eventually, and Jim looked into Blair's shining eyes. 

"What's the hurry?" he said, and ran a hand up Jim's side until he reached his neck. 

"No hurry at all," he murmured. Even his body wasn't rushing this, coming to a slow arousal that began as a tingle in his groin and moved in waves throughout his body. Blair hand lazily cupped his neck as they moved together for another kiss. "The living room?" he suggested. 

Blair's hands instead pulled him towards the kitchen, quietly but insistently, until he was backed up against the island with Jim pressed against him. 

"You're a great kisser," he said quietly. "Have I ever told you that?" 

Jim just smiled and nuzzled Blair's hair for a moment. "Whatever you want tonight, Blair," he said. "It's for you, and it's *up* to you." 

"I could definitely go for another kiss," he said just before taking one. Jim gently lifted him up and set his behind on the counter, forgetting for a moment that Blair was definitely not tiny and delicate. Now taller, Blair wrapped his arms around Jim's neck and his legs around his waist. 

For the first time he let Jim feel his arousal, and didn't shy away from Jim knowing that he, too, was turned on by this. By *him*. It wasn't quite such an alien thought now. It never had been, in theory, but theory and reality were two different things entirely. Maybe the reality wasn't the same as the fantasy had been, but it was ten times as fulfilling and a hundred times as genuine. 

It didn't scare him anymore. 

"I love you," said Blair, slipping his hands up under Jim's shirt and caressing his back, feeling the play of toned muscle as Jim's arms came around him again. He hooked his heels around Jim's thighs and rubbed their groins together. Jim cried out at the first electric jolts went through his body and looked at Blair, who had the most amazed and elated look on his face. "Upstairs," he whispered finally. 

Instead of letting him down, Jim took Blair into his arms and carried him, not wanting their bodies to come apart now. Or ever, really, but he would let this moment in time be enough. Blair kissed Jim the whole way up. 

"Let me take that off," said Blair as he was set down on the edge of the bed, reaching for Jim's already disheveled shirt. His fingers snagged its edge and he began to pull it upwards, over Jim's hard stomach and defined pecs, over his broad shoulders, then over his head and onto the floor. The body in front of him was incredibly inviting; he let his fingers trace down it before hastily removing his own shirt and dropping it to the floor as well. 

Blair still wore an expression tinged with awe, as though he couldn't quite believe he was doing what he was doing, but didn't want to stop no matter what. 

"I want this to be perfect for you," said Jim, moving to lay down across the bed next to Blair. 

"Perfect?" he repeated. "I'm not expecting perfect. The first time is never perfect, but it's special." He kissed his lover tenderly. "All I want is special." 

Jim pulled Blair down next to him and spooned up against his back, pressing his face to his lover's neck. 

"Whatever you want," he said. "I've wanted this for so long...it's like a gift, Blair. Having you in my arms is a gift." He laughed at himself, softly. "I know what I must sound like. You see what you do to me?" 

"I like what I do to you," he mumbled, letting himself just be held in Jim's arms for a long moment. "And I like what you do to me, too." 

Jim tasted his skin, tracing along Blair's shoulder with his tongue. His hand slid down Blair's side to come to rest on his hip, waiting there hesitantly. "Blair...?" 

"Go ahead," he said. "Touch me." 

Jim wasn't in any hurry, first brushing against the bulge in Blair's jeans lightly, then cupping it with his hand and caressing it with his thumb. Blair moaned, increasing in volume until he was clearly audible. Jim continued what he was doing, pressing his own half-clad body against his back. 

"Wait," whispered Blair. "Wait." As Jim pulled back warily, Blair quickly stripped his jeans off and threw them down with his shirt. "You too," he said urgently. "Please." 

Jim didn't need to be asked twice. Jim didn't even need to be asked once. He took off his pants and, after a moment of thought, his underwear too. He wasn't at all bothered that Blair didn't. When they were curled up together again and comfortable he reached out and gave Blair a tentative stroke, feeling his hardness through the thin cotton of his boxers. "I love you," he said, feeling Blair's tense muscles against his chest. "I love you. All you have to do is tell me to stop and I will." 

"I don't want you to stop. I do *not* want you to stop. In fact, under no circumstances will I *permit* you to stop," said Blair emphatically. He may have been tense, but he had no doubts about what they were doing. As if punctuating his statement, he pushed forward against Jim's hand, increasing the pressure. 

Jim closed his hand as much as he could and began to stroke, slowly. "Wait," Blair said again and finally slid his underwear right off. He shivered a little, perhaps from the cold, or perhaps just a physical manifestation of his overwhelming emotions. Fluidly, he rolled over so that he was facing his lover, and planted a soft kiss on his lips. "Now it's right." 

Jim was the one to deepen the kiss, not pushing Blair, just inviting him. The invitation was heartily accepted. Neither knew which one started moving first, or when. One moment they were just holding and kissing and the next they were moving against one another in a near- perfect rhythm. Jim felt a slickness begin to coat both of them, born of sweat and pre-ejaculate, that sped their motions until their bodies were slapping together. Blair held a hand up between them, slowing things down, not pulling away but not pressing in either. Jim felt a cold chill move through him until Blair's fingers began dancing across his chest, tweaking his nipples and tracing a line to his groin. "Too fast," he said in explanation, his lips less than an inch away from Jim's. "Let me feel you." 

Jim was unprepared for the dive that Blair took towards his chest, his lips latching onto one nipple and sucking tenderly. His body bucked then he groaned, loudly and desperately enough to send a shock through Blair's body, to make him suck harder and graze it with his teeth. "Yes!" Jim couldn't help crying out as Blair released it and latched onto the other one. He swore he could feel Blair smile. 

Blair's hands, which had been hovering at Jim's waist, dared to move down and touch his erection, making small, exploratory motions up and down and all over it. Jim moved against him, hoping it wouldn't make Blair withdraw. It didn't, and Jim felt more aroused than he had in a long time. This was *Blair*. Finally, it was Blair in his bed with him, loving him and doing these things with him. 

Finally, they were together. 

Blair bit his nipple teasingly then let go and looked up into Jim's eyes. "Was that--?" Jim didn't even let him finish, devouring his lips hungrily in response. 

"Blair...God, Blair." Nothing was hesitant anymore as Blair let his hands come around Jim's back again and resumed their rhythm. Both men had to gasp for breath between hard kisses and harder thrusts. Blair stifled a shout as he came, but Jim's fingers digging into his back made him release his cry. Jim thrust against the warm wetness a few more times before he, too, reached his climax and echoed Blair's cry. It was okay to let out all this pleasure, when for so long all they'd had was pain. 

Blair gave him a long, lingering kiss before turning over again so that Jim could spoon up behind him. "I don't know what to say," he whispered, and Jim could actually hear the happiness in his voice. 

"Don't say anything," he said, kissing the side of Blair's neck as he held him close. "I know." Blair's breathing slowed from its frantic pace, and he shifted a few times in Jim's arms before beginning to drift off to sleep. _Exhausted? I don't blame you_ Jim smiled indulgently and kissed him one more time before tucking his head against Blair's neck and letting sleep overtake him as well. 

<><><><><><><><><><> 

Blair sat anxiously on a hard plastic chair in the hallway, watching people pass back and forth in front of him. He knew that Jim wasn't the one on trial, that he was only testifying about a crime done *to* him, but his pounding heart didn't see it that way. He felt like the outcome of today would affect everything. 

He could have stayed at home, or gone in to the university, or even stayed upstairs in Major Crime with someone he knew...but at home he would have just been worried sick, and at the university he wouldn't have been able to get anything done. As for Major Crime...well, there were a lot of reasons he wasn't up there right now. 

Finally, the door across the hall opened and a familiar redhead walked through. "Blair," she said, acknowledging him with a nod of her head. 

"Sheila," he returned, standing. 

Then she smiled and Blair's spirits rose. "Jim will be right out. Congratulations." He shook her hand without knowing what had gone on and watched as she walked away. Behind her came a couple of men in suits talking to one another. Then Hyde. Then Rafe, who gave Blair a dark look as he passed by. Buccini was in handcuffs, being led past by an uniformed officer. Then came Jim. 

Without a word, he went over to Blair and took the younger man into his arms. "We won," he whispered. "*Boy* did we win." 

"What happened?" 

"Buccini's been arrested for what he did," said Jim. "And dismissed from the force effective immediately. Rafe and Hyde are suspended for a month, and required to receive group counseling regarding their actions after which their status will be reviewed. And--here's the kicker--station policy is being reviewed to explicitly cover situations like these." 

Blair was speechless. He'd expected that Buccini would be punished somehow--he *was* caught on tape--and had hope that Rafe and Hyde would at least be reprimanded. But he'd never expected anything like this. 

"People can surprise you sometimes," said Jim, his arm around Blair's shoulders as they began to make their way down the hallway. "And hey, it was about time something went our way." 

"I'm going to head out to the university again today," said Blair, "if that's all right with you. And, um, how about tomorrow I come in to the station and we catch up on some stuff?" 

Jim wasn't surprised by the offer, not after everything they had done and talked about, but he was nonetheless pleased. 

"I'd like that," he said. "When do you have to go back to teaching?" 

"Monday," said Blair immediately. "Monday at 10:30 I have an intro class that I *really* need to get me lecture notes back on. Today I just want to make sure that everything's in order, catch up with a few people that probably think I've dropped off the face of the earth. That sort of thing. I'll only be a couple of hours or so." 

Jim nodded. "Well, I have to check in with Simon, but this was the end of my day. Meet you at home?" After Blair indicated his agreement, Jim took him and kissed him right there in the corridor of the Cascade Police Department. "We have to celebrate," he said. 

"Yeah," agreed Blair, "we do." They walked together to the elevator, then parted as Jim went up to Simon's office and Blair went down to street level to head off to Rainier. 

<><><><><><><><><><> 

Jim gave his customary half-knock on Simon's door before opening it and peeking his head inside. Simon looked up from his work with a scowl before seeing who was there. "How'd it go?" he asked mildly, though Jim could hear the tension in his voice. 

"IA'll be faxing you all the documents, sir. But it went well--well for me. Will we be needing anything else, sir?" 

Simon motioned toward the door. "Step inside and close that thing, would you? I just need you for a couple of minutes." He shut the book and pushed it aside. "Things going okay for you?" 

"Okay, sir? I guess so. Better than they have been." 

"That's good to hear. I don't anticipate you having any more problems here in the bullpen...but you've got to know that people are saying things." 

Jim gave him a look. "Probably more than you do." 

Simon nodded. "How's Blair?" 

"Blair's in good shape. He's at the university right now getting ready to go back to work next week." 

"Will he be back to the station?" 

"He says tomorrow, but I just don't know. I'm sorry." Jim leaned against the wall near the door. "I have to leave it up to him; there's nothing else I can do." 

"I'd like to see him back," he said. "And I know I'm not the only one." 

"I'll let him know, sir." 

"Dismissed. I'll see you tomorrow." 

Jim nodded and left the office. 

<><><><><><><><><><><> 

"Hey, Blair, that book just came in." 

"What book?" Blair barely looked up from his notes at the woman standing in the doorway, so he missed the amused roll of Angie's eyes. 

"The one you requested about a month ago? Remember? I was just down in Dafoe and they mentioned to me that it was in. Apparently, you've been hard to get ahold of lately." 

"Yeah," admitted Blair. "I haven't really caught up on my messages yet." Desperately, he wracked his brain for what book it was. When he finally remembered, his face lit up. "The Caron! Oh, I've been waiting for that!" 

"I imagine you would have been," said Angie. "I hear you were sick this week--I hope you're feeling better now." 

Blair looked up at her with wide eyes as the implication of what she'd just said slammed into him. She didn't know. She didn't *know*. _There's something beyond Jim and me and everything we've gone through. There *is* something else. This time, it's *my* choice._

"I'm feeling much better now, thanks. Jeez," he said, "I don't suppose you'd mind picking it up for me?" 

Angie sighed indulgently and reached out her hand for Blair's student card. 

"But *only* because you've been sick," she said. "Got that?" 

"Got it," said Blair with a grateful smile, handing the small laminated card over. "Thanks." With a bright smile and a nod that made her light brown curls fall over her eyes, she was gone. 

Blair recalled with a bit of astonishment the reason he had requested the book in the first place. In it were described observations on some Central American rituals, focusing on sharpening the senses. It had nothing to do with Sentinels, unfortunately, but he'd thought maybe some of the exercises would be good to try with Jim. The only hesitation he'd had--and he was laughing at it now--was that the exercises might be too intimate for Jim to be comfortable with. 

It hadn't been that bad since he'd gotten here. Sure there were the people who knew everything, who looked at him sideways as he went by. And the people who just knew about him and Jim. There were the people who didn't want to talk about it, and the people who did. And the people whose looks made him very glad he didn't know what thoughts were going through their heads. All in all, he'd managed to get work done. 

"Chief?" 

Blair started at the sound of Jim's voice. 

"What are you doing here?" 

Jim shrugged. "I can go if you want," he offered, his voice a bit tight as he tried to keep the emotion out of it. 

"No, no," said Blair, "that's not what I meant. I was just surprised, man. Come on in...I thought we were going to meet at home." 

"I just..." Jim found he was at a loss as to how to explain why he'd come. "I thought you might need me here. I thought you might *want* me here." He held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. 

"I do," admitted Blair, though the admission wasn't difficult at all. 

"Hey, Blair," said Angie breathlessly, appearing unexpectedly in the doorway. "Here you go." She'd taken a step into the office before noticing that Jim was there. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize you had someone in here. Just let me back out somewhat gracefully, here..." 

Blair laughed. "Come on in, Ange. This is Jim. He's my--" Blair paused and looked up into Jim's eyes before making his decision. "He's my lover." 

Angie grinned and turned to face Blair head on. 'He's *cute*!' she mouthed to him before turning towards Jim and offering her hand. "Angie Osborne," she said before Blair had a chance to introduce her. "I have an office just up the hall. An office which I will be returning to just as *soon* as I hand Blair his stuff." With a grin aimed at Jim this time, she laid the book and the student card very deliberately on Blair's desk and began backing out of the room. "Just forget I was even here." 

Jim watched her leave. "Not likely," he said. "She's a bit of an unforgettable character, isn't she?" When he turned to Blair, his love and gratitude still shone from his eyes. "Thank you," he said. "You didn't have to do that." 

"I don't have to do anything," countered Blair. "I wanted to. It was *my* choice to tell her...and I like it that way." 

"Listen, I'll just sit here while you finish up, all right? I wouldn't want to interrupt." 

"You aren't," said Blair, and once Jim was contentedly seated nearby, leafing through one of Blair's multitude of magazines, he went back to going through the notes. Meredith had filled him in on what they had gone through while he was away, and after another hour of compiling, reading and jotting, he was reasonably certain he could pick up where they'd left off without having to fly by the seat of his pants. 

"Blair, buddy, we're going out for a few drinks," came Andrew's voice, clearly being shouted from across the hall. "Wanna join us?" 

"Cover your ears," warned Blair before hollering back. "I got plans for tonight, Andy. Maybe next time." 

Andy's head popped in the door. "Since when do you have plans you can't change?" He was quicker to notice Jim than Angie had been, and clearly knew who he was. "Oh," he said, the bounce going out of his voice. "You must be..." 

"Yes," said Blair, stubbornly refusing to let Andy's reaction get to him. "This is Jim. I have plans with him for tonight." 

Andy nodded. "Well, uh, see you around, Sandburg." With another swift glance at Jim, he was gone. 

"Well, he was certainly friendly," commented Jim dryly. 

"Andy's okay," said Blair, but his voice was distinctly lacking in life, too. And he knew that Jim knew it. "I told you...I can't help caring what people think. But damned if I'm going to let it keep me away from you." With determination, he was almost instantly in Jim's face, pausing only briefly before diving in to steal a not-so-brief kiss. "I'm ready to head home now," he said, noting Jim's rather stunned expression. 

"Uh, yeah, okay," he stammered before he began to regain control of his expression. "I stole someone's parking spot--hope I didn't get ticketed." 

"Right," said Blair. "Two vehicles. Meet you at home?" 

"It's a date," said Jim, standing up but not leaving the room before he'd taken a kiss of his own. "See you soon, and be careful." 

"Always am," said Blair, playfully shoving Jim out the door. 

<><><><><><><><><><> 

Jim had the news on when Blair got home and seemed to be watching the screen rather intently. "Shh," he said as Blair made a racket getting his things inside. "It's about the arrest." Blair joined him in front of the television set moments later. 

"No longer is Cascade's latest killer on the streets thanks to the efforts of Detective Jim Ellison, an officer in the Major Crimes division who was outed as a homosexual earlier this week. Detective Ellison's personal stake in the case did not affect his efficiency as he took the killer down at the site of what would have been the next killing. Neither did it deter his partner and lover, Blair Sandburg, from assisting in the arrest, which took place early yesterday..." 

"What the *fuck*?" blurted Blair without thinking. 

"I'll be damned," muttered Jim. "I should have been expecting it, but--" 

"How *dare* they! What the *fuck* did that have to do with anything?" 

"Whoa, Blair, calm down--" 

"I will *not* calm down! They had *no* right to say that. They didn't even *know*. This is total trash...we don't have to put up with that..." 

"No, you're right," said Jim. "Shall you call the station or shall I?" 

"Call the station?" 

"To put in a complaint about the integrity of their reporters," said Jim. "I don't want to let them get away with this any more than you do...but ranting about it isn't going to help." 

"I...I'm just so damn *pissed*," spat Blair, collapsing on the edge of the couch with such force that it shook. "Who the hell do they think they *are*?" 

"Whatever they think," said Jim, picking up the phone and dialing directory assistance, "they aren't going to think it for long. Why don't you call for some pizzas? Our celebration starts just as soon as I make this call. All right?" 

Blair was still tensed up, but he nodded and stood up to get his cell phone out of his backpack. "They're not going to ruin this for us," he said. 

"They're never going to ruin anything again." 

<><><><><><><><><><><><> 

Blair popped the last morsel of pizza into Jim's mouth playfully, leaning against him on the couch and watching an old movie with the lights turned low. A cup of hot tea had helped to calm him down; hearing the apology that the station had extended to both of them had helped more. Jim's arm was comfortably around Blair's shoulders, squeezing gently every so often, just to remind him he was there. 

"What are we going to do?" he asked. It had been an hour since the broadcast, since the call, but it was still in the forefront of his mind. 

"I can't make the decision for you," admitted Jim. "And I'm not going to make you accept the decision that I've come to for myself." 

"Jim..." said Blair quietly, "I already have." 

A single glance told Jim how serious he was. "It...it isn't right, what happened to us. And it would be even more wrong to let it happen to someone else, and not do anything about it. I don't know what I'm going to do...I just know what I believe." 

Blair nodded and remained curled up against him wordlessly. His hand crept inward, from his own lap to the inner edge of Jim's thigh, then just rested there. 

Jim smiled. "Don't go giving him any ideas, Sandburg...he's a hard boy to get back to bed." 

Blair laughed and teasingly grazed Jim's groin with his fingertips. Jim caught them before they could make a second pass and brought them up to his lips to kiss them lightly. 

"Don't tease," he said with a grin. 

"That's no fun," said Blair as his other hand snaked toward his partner. 

"Seriously," said Jim. "Do you understand what I'm saying here?" 

"Yeah, Jim, I do," said Blair, his hand pausing where it was. "It's okay. I understand. Now let's stop thinking and start living all right? From here on in, what happens, happens." His hand started moving again, coming to rest cupped over Jim's slowly growing erection. "And I know what I want to happen right now." 

Jim released Blair's other hand and turned to kiss his lips tenderly, curling his hand around the back of Blair's neck. 

"Okay," he said simply, and kissed him again. Smoothly, Blair shifted until he was straddling Jim with a knee on either side of him, without ever breaking the kiss. 

"If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have made it through this." 

"If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't have *had* to go through it." 

"If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't be in love." 

Jim closed his eyes for a moment, collecting all the feelings that had burst out of him, hearing Blair say that. 

"If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't be in love either," he said, opening them. He kissed him again, this time not letting him go until Blair's shirt was unbuttoned and on the floor. "Shh," he said when Blair opened his mouth to speak. "Don't say anything. Just let me do this, okay?" Blair nodded, and gasped a little as Jim leaned him back and traced circles around one of Blair's nipples with his tongue. 

Blair's head fell backwards and he moaned aloud. Balancing him with one arm, Jim pinched Blair's other nipple with his free hand. "Oh, God," breathed Blair. His hard cock ground against Jim's as he arched his back and bared himself to Jim's attentions. "Oh, Jim." 

"Shhh," said Jim, leaning forward and gently lowering Blair to the floor. Blair's eyes were still closed as Jim unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them down to just below his ass. "Let me, Blair." His hand closed over Blair's silk encased cock and he began to rub it lightly, feeling its heat against the palm of his hand. 

Blair moaned again, louder, and pushed himself against Jim's hand roughly. 

"Easy," said Jim, pressing a hand against Blair's flat stomach and waiting for him to calm down before beginning to stroke him again. He could feel the wetness of pre-ejaculate through the fabric. "I want this too." 

Listening to Blair's deep, harsh breaths, Jim swiftly pulled Blair's underwear down just far enough to let his erection free. Blair hissed as the cool air hit it, then cried out as Jim's mouth closed over its head. 

"Ohgodohgodohgod," he repeated over and over again. "Jim!" Jim remained still for only a moment before beginning to slide the cock further into his mouth. Blair's sounds became less coherent, reduced to moans, groans, and the occasional wail. 

Blair shouted as he came, an unabashed, primal noise that sent a shiver through Jim's body. He swallowed every drop, licking his lips as they slid off Blair's softening cock and kissing his way back up Blair's body. 

"Was that okay?" Blair's answer was a hungry kiss that took Jim's breath away. He smiled and held his lover in his arms. 

<><><><><><><><><><> 

When Jim woke up it was still the middle of the night...he could just feel it. Something felt wrong though...he reached out to feel Blair's comforting presence and came across nothing but cooling sheets. Instinctively, his senses expanded to find him and he traced Blair's heartbeat to the kitchen, just below. Rolling over onto his stomach, he leaned up on his elbows and looked out over the railing. 

"Blair?" he said, just loudly enough for the younger man to hear him. 

Blair looked up in surprise. "Jim...I didn't mean to wake you." 

"What are you doing up?" 

"I couldn't sleep," he said, wrapping his arms around himself. The kettle on the counter in front of him started to make noises, but he ignored them and kept his eyes on Jim, waiting to see what his lover would say next. 

"You could have woken me, I wouldn't have minded." 

"I thought maybe a cup of tea would help me sleep, I didn't want to bother you." Blair turned as the kettle began to whistle and poured the boiling water into his cup. 

"Are you coming back to bed now?" 

Blair shook his head a little reluctantly. "One of use may as well get some sleep." He expected another answer from Jim, but instead his partner got out of bed and made his way down the stairs. Blair was a little embarrassed that Jim was still naked, but wasn't in any sort of mood to react. "Jim?" 

"You want to talk about it, Chief?" 

Blair shrugged. "Just nervous about going back to the station with you tomorrow, I guess. Do you...?" He gestured at the kettle, but Jim shook his head. 

"It hasn't been the same without you, and I'm not just talking about me. Simon was asking about you." 

"Why?" Blair sipped his tea and, immediately deeming it too hot, set it back down on the counter. 

"I'm not the only person who realizes you're an asset, you know. Henri's gonna be happy to see you. And Rhonda. And Tamra." 

Blair snorted. "Don't be too sure. I stood Tamra up the day after you and I...well, you know." 

"I think she's forgiven you. Blair...if you aren't ready to come back, then I'll understand." 

"And if I'm never ready?" 

"I...I don't know. You will be--you have to be. Maybe not tomorrow, but soon." 

"No, it's got to be tomorrow," said Blair. "You need me there." 

"I--" 

"You do," interrupted Blair. "And you know it. I'm as ready as I'll ever be, Jim. Doesn't mean I'm not nervous." 

"Come back to bed," he said, reaching out for Blair's hand. "We don't have to do anything; we don't have to sleep. We can just talk, if you want." Blair allowed himself to be led, crawling back under the covers and letting Jim's arm come around him comfortingly. 

"Aren't you nervous too?" 

"Yeah, I guess. But I think I know what to expect, at the station." 

"It's gonna be weird, just working, knowing what we are to one another and knowing that *they* know." 

Jim nuzzled his neck and planted a kiss on it. 

"We won't be the first and we won't be the last. The novelty will wear off and things will get back to, well, normal. You've got to believe that." 

"I *don't* believe that," said Blair. "Jim, nothing is going to be the same as it was. People are gonna look at me, at us, differently." 

Jim recognized those same fears coming to Blair's mind again and worked to soothe them the only honest way that he could. 

"You're right," he said. "It will be different. And then everyone will get used to it, and it won't be such a big deal anymore." 

"But they aren't going to forget." 

"We don't want them to forget," said Jim. "We want them to acknowledge us, and then go on with their lives." He kissed Blair's neck again. "Come on, Blair, get some sleep. Worrying about it isn't going to change anything." 

Blair nodded and yawned, feeling a little more relaxed. "I guess you're right," he murmured. "G'night, Jim." 

"G'night, Blair. Sweet dreams." 

<><><><><><><><><><> 

This time Jim woke to the sensation of Blair's fingertips running up and down his side. He smiled to himself and remained motionless, willing the other man not to stop. 

"Come on, Jim," whispered Blair in his ear. "I know you're awake. I can tell." 

Jim mumbled something intentionally incoherent and didn't open his eyes. Blair's fingertips began to expand their territory, finally reaching one of Jim's nipples and pinching it lightly. Jim cried out a little and rolled over onto his back. His eyes remained closed. 

"Don't even try it, man," said Blair, leaning over him to get access to his whole chest. 

Swiftly, Jim snatched Blair and pulled him down on top of his own body. His eyes snapped open. "Morning, love," he said with a wicked grin, and kissed him. 

When they parted, Blair returned the grin. 

"Told you I could tell." 

"Now that you've started," warned Jim, stealing another kiss. "You realize you can't just stop." His hands were all over Blair's back before settling lower, cupping Blair's ass cheeks fondly. 

"I never intended to," said Blair. His hand snaked between their bodies to touch Jim's balls tenderly, then stroked up his cock. 

"You're stalling," realized Jim. "About going in today." 

"Shut up." Blair kissed him again and didn't let go, beginning to rub their bare bodies together. "Just shut up, Jim, for now." Jim wasn't in any condition to refuse. It was still explosive, feeling Blair's body against his. To be making love with him...it just blew his mind. 

Blair pushed himself up on his hands and humped Jim's body, the slick friction of their cocks rubbing together making his muscles tight and weak at the same time. Jim almost zoned on the intense look of concentration on Blair's face--his closed eyes and furrowed brow and half-quirk of his lips that was both a smile and a grimace. 

"Blair," he gasped. "Love. I..." There weren't words for what he felt, both emotionally and physically. He was coming, but it was more than that, too. He cried out, his fingers digging into Blair's ass, and from the sudden tensing of Blair's body, the noises that were coming from Blair's throat, he knew that his lover was close, too. After a few more hard, frantic, thrusts, Blair groaned and collapsed against Jim. 

Jim slid his hands upwards and around Blair's back, holding him against his chest and not wanting to let him go. "I love you," he whispered. "I love you, Blair...but we still have to go today." 

"I know," murmured Blair. "Just gimme a few more minutes. Okay?" 

Jim gave them gladly, and held him until the last possible minute before they had to get ready to go into the station. 

"I love you," he repeated. "No matter what happens today, remember that. Okay?" 

"Jim," said Blair softly. "I'm *never* going to forget." 

<><><><><><><><><><> 

"Jim," said Henri, not realizing at first that Blair was just a few steps behind his partner. "There's a letter for you on your desk. For you and Blair, actually. Came special delivery this morning, man." His eyes finally focused on Blair, tagging along behind. "Hairboy! Welcome back, man!" 

Blair smiled tentatively. "Thanks," he said simply, catching up with Jim as he reached his desk. Brown gave him a firm pat on the shoulder before picking up the envelope off Jim's desk and handing it to the detective. 

Jim nodded his thanks and Brown left the two of them alone, going back to his own desk. Blair couldn't help but notice Ryf's absence and it unsettled him, even knowing everything that had happened. And even though he didn't *want* to see him, it almost felt wrong not having him there. Beside him, Jim opened the envelope and slid out the single piece of paper. 

"What is it?" Jim didn't answer for a moment, and slowly a smile spread out across his face. "Jim, you're really acting weird here, man..." Wordlessly, Jim handed over the letter and Blair read it. "Oh. Wow. I *totally* wasn't expecting this." 

Jim looked around his desk. "I wonder if there's anywhere I can put it up..." Blair grinned and, breaking off a piece of tape from the dispenser on Jim's desk, taped the letter up on the glass behind them. "Perfect." 

Captain Banks poked his head out his office door. "Jim, in my office." 

"Your turn in the hotseat," said Alison as she made her way over to the desk. "He been like this since he got in. Good luck." Jim grumbled something as he walked away and Blair could make a good guess what it was. "So how are you doing, Blair?" 

"I'm, uh, okay," he said. "Arm's still tender, but it's all getting better." He blushed a little, remembering just why his arm was more tender today than most. His bruises continued to fade--a few more days and he hoped they would be gone completely. Maybe then it would be a little easier to let Jim look at him, the way he wanted him to. 

"That's good to hear," she said. "What's that you've got up there?" 

Blair glanced over at the letter. "That's...well, it's a formal letter of apology from KYTV for their broadcast on us last night." 

She nodded. "I was watching. Can I see it?" 

Blair moved out of her way. "Sure, go ahead." He watched a little nervously as she read it; Jim may have had a good idea what the climate of the station was like, but Blair didn't. 

When she turned back to him, she smiled. 

"Listen, Blair...I know people have been giving you a hard time, and I know some of them still will, but just ignore them. Okay? You're good for Jim, and Jim's good for you, and that's all that matters." 

Blair was taken aback. "You mean that?" 

"I never say anything I don't mean," she said with a wink. "I'm glad you're feeling better. It's nice to have you back." 

"Yeah," he said, a little surprised at himself. "It feels pretty good to be back, too." When he was alone at Jim's desk again, he ignored the glares that came at him from other areas of the room. It wasn't easy. Blair'd always been someone who tried to be something for everyone, and this time no matter what he tried to do or who he tried to be, he wasn't going to win. It made him feel somewhat powerless. What made it bearable was that for every scowl he saw, there was a smile from someone else. 

Ten minutes later, Jim came out of the office. 

"So?" 

"So?" 

"So what did he want?" 

"Nothing much...caught me up on a couple of developments in a case I've been working on--" 

"Sandburg, my office." 

Blair raised an eyebrow at Jim, who shrugged. Hesitantly, he made his way into the Captain's office. 

"Yeah, Simon?" 

"Sit down," he said, turning his back to Blair and sitting down at his own desk. "How are you doing?" 

"I'm fine," he said, wondering where Simon was going with this. 

"I know...that we've never really hung out that much," said Simon. "I mean, we've never really talked..." Blair nodded and Simon sighed. "Jim's been telling me a little, about you two. Not much, mind you. Just...enough." 

Blair nodded again. "I'm sorry, Simon...are you going somewhere with this?" 

"Yes, dammit, yes. I don't know if this means anything to you, or if it even matters, but you and Jim--it's cool with me. I guess I don't understand...yet ...but I'd have to be an idiot not to see how much he needs you." 

"That does mean something to me, Simon. Thanks." 

"Good. Now that that's out of the way, I have something serious to talk to you about." 

"You mean that wasn't why you called me in here?" 

Simon shook his head. "I got a request from Simmons in Robbery yesterday, He wanted to know if he could borrow you for a case they're working on. Something to do with rare artifacts or something like that... I told him I couldn't assign you, you weren't a cop." 

"They really wanted my help?" 

"I told them I was going to have to ask. If you want to do it, they'll pay standard consultant fees. And if you're worried about Jim, well, I can guarantee you he isn't going to be doing *any* field work for the next few days." 

"Why me, though? Why not someone else, someone professional?" 

"Well, Sandburg, he said they wanted someone who'd been around, who they knew they could trust. You're the guy they want." 

"Wow," said Blair. "Yeah, yeah, I'll do it. Who do I talk to?" 

"Simmons...I'll give him a call--can you meet him after lunch, as soon as you and Jim have this last case squared away?" 

"Absolutely," said Blair. "Uh, he *does* know about my university commitments, right?" 

"*Everyone* knows about your university commitments, Blair. That's why you're here, officially. Remember?" 

"Right," said Blair. "Thanks, Simon. For having faith in me." 

"Had nothing to do with me," said Simon. "This was their call entirely. As for faith in you--I had that a long time ago." 

"Thanks," repeated Blair. "Is that it?" 

"Yeah, get out of here. I'll talk to you later." 

Blair nodded and left the office, unable to keep the smile from creeping onto his face. Jim couldn't have been the only one to notice, but he was the only one to comment on it. 

"Stop looking like you just got laid, love," he whispered. "What happened in there?" 

Blair smiled enigmatically. "Ask me at lunchtime," he said. "I want to get all this stuff done." 

They stayed at Jim's desk for pretty much the rest of the morning, wrapping up the case and going over a few other things that had happened over the last week. There were a couple of times where even Blair could pick up the comments that were being said behind their back, but no one came up to them, and no one said anything in their face. It felt like a start. 

"Time for lunch," said Jim finally, dropping a pile of papers on his desk and rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Let's get out of here, Chief. 

Blair nodded, even though he didn't feel the urgency he thought he would to get out of there. So it wasn't a dream-come-true...it wasn't any sort of nightmare either. It was a part of his life that he'd been afraid he'd have to give up, and found things weren't quite so bad after all. 

Still, he was reluctant to touch Jim the way he used to, for fear of what would be said or done. No arm around the shoulders or the waist, no taps on the leg, no touching his face. 

"Come on," said Jim, standing up. Blair got up and followed him out of the Major Crime bullpen, only to be stopped just outside the doors. 

"Jim?" 

Jim took Blair's hand into his own and, without giving any notice to anyone else in the area, planted a solid kiss on Blair's lips. Blair smiled in astonishment as all his feelings for Jim bubbled up over again. No matter what, dammit, everything was going to be okay.


End file.
